A/N: a oneshot, started innocently and then went kind of completely heartbreaking. For me, anyway. You have been warned.
If they ever thought about it, it would have occurred to them that it was strange that they lived forever.
But it never did occur to them, because occurring to them is not what things do in the One-Hundred Acre Woods.
It was so much simpler to enjoy a pot of honey with one's friends, or to paint oneself black in an attempt to pass as a raincloud.
And it was easier to not question why they existed in this never-ending state of continuity, of life cartwheeling on and on through time.
Instead they would share a smile as Eeyore's tail was finally pinned back on, or as Christopher Robin returned safe and sound to them after a day in School.
And briefly, of Christopher Robin- they never paused to wonder what he was doing there. Never did they consider the fact that he was the only human amongst them as strange.
In fact, they didn't know what a human was. What humans did. What they had done and what they had yet to do.
As Piglet wrapped his scarf firmly around his neck to face the blustery day, he only thought of spending another day- and another, and another, and another- with his best friend, Pooh.
Pooh wiggled his paw around in the jar of honey and regretted to discover that it was empty.
Rabbit, for his part, was perhaps the most sensible among them. But he only reserved a small amount of time for thinking deep thoughts- and then, these were usually more along the lines of: what would result if I traded pumpkin for cabbage in my soup, in the spirit of autumn?
Owl was regarded to be the wisest, but his mind was cluttered, and he was too busy to devote his remarkable brainpower towards philosophy of this kind.
The others never did question it either, and so life went on.
"Piglet," Said Pooh, as they bent their heads against the bluster. "What, do you suppose, is love, exactly?"
A frown brushed across Piglet's face. "Love is a feeling. Just like Christopher Robin always says that he loves all of us."
Pooh was uncertain. "Is that the same as "I love honey" or "I love haycorns", do you suppose?"
"I don't suppose it is." Piglet scratched the top of his head. "I've gotten all muddled up now."
"Oh, bother." Muttered Pooh. "So have I."
And they talked of other things for a while.
Christopher Robin never did find out that his best friends were all in his head.