[Sorry if I don't get the Collector's personality exactly right, but this is worth a shot]

A year has passed, and he had learned so little. Blixt still walked around, looking for something, anything, to spark his memory. He had restless nights, his head was always cluttered, and he was starting to hate the looks that other deer gave him.

He sat by one of the willow trees near the pond, looking down at his own reflection in the water. "Why can't I remember?", he constantly asked himself. Why couldn't he remember the doe he loved, the fight with his rival, the fall that nearly killed him...those memories were so distant in his mind, and yet he had the slightest clue about them. He knew he had a past, but couldn't seem to remember...

"The beginnings of the decent to madness...", someone spoke nearby, "...a beautiful sight to see firsthand."

Blixt was startled and stood as a creature stared at him, several faces hanging from his antlers. A skull of a head stared back at him, the eyeholes were as dark and deep as the moonless night. Blixt mustered his confidence, but deep down, the Collector had awoken some primal fear.

"I'm not going insane if that's what you're suggesting.", Blixt said as calmly as possible (though the Collector could tell by his voice that he was frightened).

"Oh? Then why do you linger here?", the Collector asked.

Blixt relaxed a little, "I...", he tried to say, but fell deep into his own thoughts. He wasn't even sure himself. He stared at his own face in the pond, no answers coming to him.

"Foolish one, the answer you seek is right before you.", the Collector said, approaching the water and looking at his own reflection. "Perhaps you should look at your true face."

Blixt shook his head, "This is my true face. There's nothing underneath this mask for anyone to see, other than a hideous monster."

One of the Collector's shadows seeped toward him, as he replied, "You think you're a monster? No, you're nothing but a worthless, pathetic deer. You don't know a thing about monsters."

Before Blixt could reply, the shadow had wrapped around him. "Take off your mask, show me what kind of monster you are!", the skeleton deer shrieked. Blixt couldn't move, and didn't say a word. He felt the strings that tied the back of his mask loosen, and the shadow pulled the green luchador mask off.

The Collector stared at him for a moment before saying, "Why do you hide that face? I see no monster, instead...I see a work of art."

Blixt reluctantly turned his eyes to the reflection, seeing his own face for the first time since he wandered the Endless Forest. A pale face stared back at him, deprived of sunlight for a year. But a more striking feature was cut into his face - a deep scar that ran from the very top of his forehead almost vertically down to his chin, cutting between his eyes.

And as he saw the scar, the memories flooded into his mind. "Blixt no!" "Dond, this isn't worth dying over!" "Go with the gods, Blixt!" He remembered everything - the fight, his doe, even the tiny details of the land on that day. He remembered the howling breeze as he plummeted off the cliff, he remembered the terrible sting as tree branches cut deep into his face. He remembered his bones shattering as he hit the solid ground.

"I'm so sorry for what has been done, Blixt...", those words, echoing sweetly. The voice of a god, it was one of the few comforts he had at that moment. The calming, soft voice of Michael telling him, "I'm willing to give you another chance..."

"It was all right in front of me.", Blixt said to the Collector, "All the memories, even the sensations, hidden away by this mask. Thank you for opening my eyes." He stood and breathed in the humid night air, turning and walking away.

"Aren't you forgetting something?", the Collector asked, looking at the green luchador mask he held in the shadows.

Blixt stopped and looked at the skeleton deer, "Keep it. Put it to good use.", he replied.

The shadowy tendril returned to the Collector, holding the green mask. He placed it on one of the prongs of his antlers, and watched as the once cluttered Blixt left the Pond as an enlightened and seemingly purified stag.

"Still has much to learn, and yet...", the skeleton spoke to himself, "the veil over his eyes has been lifted. He will find his place one day."