Chapter Text
In a village between meadows and forests, life was slow and simple.
The people here had everything they needed, be it far from everything they could have if they lived in a city or town, but they were content.
You had traveled to nearby towns and even a greater city once, worked there for a bit to earn money, and had seen enough to know what your village missed and what you wanted to be: a doctor.
You had tried to acquire and read as many books about medicine and human anatomy as you possibly could, with most of them being too expensive to buy for yourself. You had even assisted a doctor for a while, trying to soak in as much knowledge as you possibly could. He had been a kind man to take you in and teach you, he had even praised your intellect. When you had asked him, if you could become a doctor someday, he smiled and gave you an affectionate, yet pitying look.
You didn’t understand it back then, but you'd understand sooner than you'd thought.
It was one of these slow and simple days in your village. That you had studied to practise medicine had become known around the village, so people would come to you for support.
“Take these herbs and brew yourself tea from them, two to three times a day. In addition you can inhale steam once a day to help clear your airways. Just boil water for this, put it in a bowl or a pot, add 1 teaspoon of salt if you can, then bow your head over the bowl and just breathe for 10-15 minutes, preferably through your nose, though”, you said as you handed over a bag of herbs you'd just prepared.
“Oh thank you so much, Miss”, the elderly lady in your chair replied with a raspy voice, “Hopefully I can get rid of that cold soon now!”
You helped her get up and supported her on her way out.
“And remember, if anything else should be the matter, come by anytime”, you said, handing her her wooden walking cane.
“I will, young Doctor, I will”, the elderly lady replied, waving you goodbye.
You watched her walk away slowly. Her words rang through your ear. Being called ‘Doctor’ felt new and somewhat undeserved, and yet it filled you with pride. You felt honored that especially one of the elders would recognize you as such.
Over the months, you have treated many people. For small things, mostly - however, it seemed to be effective. You were uplifted by the grateful faces of your patients, wandering about with a quiet smile on your face. Unfortunately, it left you oblivious to the storm that was brewing.
—-----
The Creature had wandered day and night, through forests and meadows. Aimlessly, seeking something that he didn’t quite know what it would be. After a long while, he came across a village. It was fairly small, yet lively, in the midst of a large forest clearing. He found shelter in an abandoned shack somewhere close to the outer rim and secretly watched the people during the day. One house he could watch particularly well. There was a young woman living inside. In the evenings, she was always alone, aside from a small cat keeping her company. During the day, however, many different people would come to her. She would speak kind words, care for them, sometimes give them little things to take home. Whenever the people left after their short visit, they had smiles on their faces. He could hear the words ‘thank you’ and ‘take care’, and the people would call her ‘Doctor’ sometimes. He learned that people would come to her for help, and she would help them feel better. He learned about the softness and kindness in her smile and words, the precision and care she would put into her every move. The Creature understood that she worked with herbs. He would see her go out to collect them sometimes. Unfortunately, when he tried to collect some of them for her, he had no idea which plants it was that she needed. In defeat, he ended up collecting firewood and some wildflowers instead, and placed them in front of her door in the dead of night.
In the mornings, he watched excitedly, waiting for her to see his offerings. And her warm smile, her gentle hands holding the flowers, her breathy laugh - all those were more of a reward than he'd ever hoped for.
With time passing however, he'd hear very different voices emerging. There were men speaking in hushed voices. They were meeting in secret and plotting. He did not fully understand what they were so angry about, but they'd glance over at the young woman's house and watch her with great distrust. Something must have angered them. The Creature heard the word ‘witch’ fall from their lips every now and then. They spoke it as if it was a curse, better uttered in a low voice, but pronounced with such disgust, it sent a shiver down his spine.
He was unsure of what it all meant. But a strange feeling unfolded in his stomach.
Things kept going on like this for a while. The Creature kept bringing the young woman small gifts. Maybe, he thought, one day he could come and knock on her door to introduce himself as regular people do. Maybe she would be kind to him, like she was kind to all the people that sought her out for help. When the evening came and her house was lit by candles and the fire in the hearth, he would sit leaned against the wall of his shack, peeking through holes and cracks in the wood, silently dreaming about his time to finally come.
—---
A lot of months had passed since you’d returned from your travels. It seemed as if the people of your village not only accepted you as a doctor, but also were very grateful for your help. Watching them feel better, recover from their illnesses and sincerely smile at you in deep gratitude was nearly thanks enough. You’d even accompanied, assisted and supervised a few births, having the utmost honor of helping to bring new life into this world. Most of the time, you asked for no to very little pay, but always preferred donations of any kind. You didn’t want to demand your people’s money like that, it felt wrong, since your intention had always been to help and support them. You’d rather have them give you what they can give, if they wanted to. So, just like the butcher's family had brought you ham as a gift, the farmers had brought you a kitten, since their barn cat had recently had a litter of 4. And some of the villagers, you’d found, preferred to express their gratitude anonymously in silence, as you’d find gifts in front of your door in some mornings. Although they made you wonder, as they somehow felt… different. There was an air of innocence about them, yet so much care was put into them, that it made you question whether they’d truly come from one of your patients. But in the end, it didn’t really matter. You accepted them with gratitude like any other gift.
One evening, however, everything changed. You had already sent away your last patient of the day and finished tidying up. The sun had already set and you were ready to end the day and hop into bed. At this point, it must have already been in the dead of night, when a loud knock thundered against your front door. It startled you, since the sheer brutality of the knock felt unreasonable, especially at this time of night. Even your kitten was startled awake, now crouching down underneath your table, ears flicked back.
You hurried to answer the door. From the corner of your eye, you saw light flickering through your windows, as if there were several lanterns or torches outside your house. Perhaps there’s an emergency, you thought.
When you opened the door, you saw in the dim firelight lots of faces staring at you grimly. All of them were men.
“Yes? What’s the matter? Did something happen?”, you asked, “Does someone need medical attention?”
There was a long, eerie moment of silence. You could feel the hatred and disgust in their gazes, piercing through you like daggers dipped in poison. Then, finally, one of them spoke up.
“Silence, wretched woman! We have come to put an end to this blasphemy.”
“Wha-... What do you mean?”, you stuttered in utter confusion.
“We will put an end to your practice of witchcraft. We know what you are. You’re bringing the devil upon us! You’ll send this village to hell and ruin! We have come to claim you, Witch!”, the leader spat, angrily raising his torch.
The group of men joined in, rattling and raising their pitchforks, knives and guns, yelling and chanting hatefueled nonsense.
“Witch? I beg your pardon, Sir - you can’t be serious. There is no such thing as witchcraft here, it’s science. If anything, I am a doctor!”, you replied in defense.
“Quiet! We will hear no more of this! Save your deceitful words for the devil. You shall meet your master soon”, he growled and grabbed you by the arm before you could respond. The kitten underneath your table hissed and growled loudly. You were dragged outside in your nightgown, pulled away from your house by the angry group of men. You opened your mouth to scream for help but you were quickly shut up by a sack being draped over your head and your mouth being held shut by a large hand. You struggled and struggled, trying to break free, your mumbled whines growing more panicked by the minute. Just then you felt a blunt impact on your head and everything went dark.
—--
The Creature had, just like every night, quietly watched over your little house. He had already made up his mind which gifts he’d collect for you this time. He wanted to get a lot of wildflowers and gather them in a bulk - a ‘bouquet’ it was called, if he recalled correctly, and planned on giving it to you in person. In a quiet moment, late in the evening, he’d muster up his courage and knock on your door. However, as he soon learned, this moment was to be ripped away from him.
Flickering lights caught his eye, as he watched a large group of men gather in front of the young woman’s house. He had already exited the shack to start collecting flowers, so he quickly hid behind a row of trees, still closely watching them. He heard their hushed voices murmuring, thick with rage, ready to burst into shouting at any moment. They knocked at her door with such force that it even startled the Creature. He felt uneasy. Their intentions felt harmful. The air was tense.
The young woman opened the door in her nightgown, seemingly confused. From then on, everything happened quickly. They called her a witch, accused her of bringing evil upon the village, grabbed her by the arm and forcefully dragged her away. The Creature’s fingers twitched, his face distorted in anger, yet he held himself back. He watched the tiny kitten attempt to run after its mistress, hissing and growling and screaming. Its attempt proved to be futile, as one of the many men simply kicked it away. Its small, fuzzy body caught an impact with the wall of the house and stayed motionless.
He decided to follow them as soon as it would be safe, and as their lights and noises grew more distant, he started walking. He rushed over to the kitten, carefully picking up its small body, searching for a sign of life while holding his breath. His palm was greeted by a tiny heartbeat and steady breathing and he exhaled in relief. Gently, he placed the animal in the inside of his long coat, and went after the angry mob again.
—-
The last thing you could remember was being dragged away from your home. And the next thing you knew was that you were tied to a stake high up on a pedestal. You pried your eyes open, hissing at the pounding ache on the backside of your head, as you took in your surroundings.
The men were assembled in front of the pedestal, pure hatred still engraved in their faces. When you realized you were tied to a pole, flammable hay and dry wood piled beneath you, your stomach sank and your eyes widened in panic. The men were holding torches. They thought of you as a witch. They were going to set you on fire.
You wiggled and struggled against the ropes that bound you, desperately trying to break free. You cried out loud, in hopes someone would hear. However, the forest clearing they had chosen was tied off the village by a piece of thick, dark forest, drowning out any and all noise.
“Let me go! What has gotten into you? I am not a witch, I tell you!”, you yelled at them.
“If we would have known you’d never shut your mouth, we would have simply cut your tongue out, witch”, the leader of the group spat at you with a snarl, “But, it is too late for that, I am afraid. Women simply do not become doctors. And they surely don’t do so to treat people in a village with… herbs and potions. You will not trick us. Your time has come.”
The shock of realizing the sheer extent and consequence of the uneducated and superstitious left you speechless. You could see it in their eyes. No amount of reason would get through to them. You’d need your friends, patients and allies from all over the village to save you, but they could not hear you. They would wake in the morning and wonder where you’d gone. They’d be left helpless and confused. Your thoughts were racing. Time and time again, you pinched your eyes shut, hoping that when you opened them again, it all would have been but a dream - only to find yourself in the same, real nightmare.
Your head hung low as they lowered their torches to the hay. It started with a glowing ember, then it caught on fire. You watched as it spread, smoke growing thicker, your eyes watering from the sting it left in your vision. Tears ran down your face like waterfalls, almost like a sorry attempt at extinguishing the roaring flames beneath you. You’d never wanted to die afraid. But you couldn’t help it.
—--
The Creature stumbled through the thick of the forest, tripping over logs and roots, dead leaves crushing and cracking beneath his feet. Just as he arrived at the border of the forest clearing, his eyes could make out their torches being lowered to a pile of dry wood and hay. His gaze wandered up the pile, up a stake and stopped at a familiar, tender frame tied to the wooden pole. The horror of it all took his breath. She was trapped. She was doomed. And they simply watched. The stench of the flames reminded him of his own past, chained in a cellar, as his creator had emptied countless containers of flammable liquids, setting it all ablaze. He remembered his fear, his panic, his helplessness. The only word he had known, the only word he could have screamed back then, the name of his creator - his captor, his tormentor.
He wouldn’t let this happen. Not if he was right there. Fueled by rage and the ghosts of his past, he stepped out of the woods and headed for the stake.
—-
All you could hear was the cracking noise of the flames as it grew louder and louder. How long would it take until you fell unconscious? Would the flames have reached your feet by then? Would you feel them eat your gown and flesh?
You were ripped out of your thoughts by a second source of noise emerging. The men were yelling something. As you raised your head, you noticed that they were facing to the right, some slowly backing away in horror, others gripping their weapons tighter. You followed their horrified gazes. And that’s when you saw him.
An abnormally tall, broad figure, towering over all of these men. He looked grim, his arms trembling with rage. His gaze wandered from the group of men up to you for a brief moment. A brief moment, in which your eyes met. A sense of warmth and familiarity rushed through you for the split of a second, before he averted his gaze again to face the angry mob of men.
Some who dared to charge at him, carelessly got tossed aside or straight into the flames as if they weighed nothing. The sound of the flames in the silence of the night was split by the screams of these men. The strange man made short process with the lot of them if they only but crossed him. As soon as the group had somewhat dissolved, his eyes scanned the stake, desperately looking for a way to get you out of this mess. If he toppled it over, you might get hurt, but it was the only way to go, if he didn’t want to catch on fire himself. He stepped back, ran toward the stake full speed, leapt over the flames and grabbed the wooden pole. Using his full weight and force to drag it across, he managed to make it tilt and sure enough, it got ripped from its anchoring. You watched in slow motion as the stake fell over, including you. The ground came closer at an alarming speed - however, shortly before you would have made impact with the ground, something caught you, your face hovering mere centimeters over the ground.
Large hands lifted and tilted the stake, hastily working on loosening the knots that bound you to the wood. After a few rips and tears, you freed yourself and managed to catch yourself from falling to the ground face-first. From the corner of your eye, you saw angry men emerging from the smoke, charging at you. In the split of a second, the large wooden stake that had been your prison just a minute before, got thrown into their way, knocking them off their feet with full force. Before you could react, you were lifted up bridal style and carried away. His face was hidden by the shadows and his hair, the backside of his frame traced by the light of the flames, as he carried you further into darkness, into the forest, away from the village and away from the stake. With each of his steps, the noise of the men and the large fire grew further away, until at some point, all that surrounded you was the silence of the forest in the embrace of night.