Natural Instinct Of The Beasts

Chapter One

Dream

...

It seems to be early morning in the solitude of the snowbound woods, Will Graham stands in a snow covered clearing, his breath coming in frosted clouds. He stands above a rope loosely coiled on the ground. The rope leads to Hannibal Lecter standing in the snow, tied securely to the base of a maple tree. The rope is looped around his throat, pulling his head tight to the tree, and then continues in multiple turns around his torso before leading back to Will.

As Hannibal stood erect against the tree, bound by thick rope around him, he was the least bit fazed as if welcoming the inevitability of his death this way. He glanced at the figure before him, who was scrutinising him the same way and breathed a few misty breaths before speaking. "Which answer is it you want to hear, Will?"

Will stood in the clearing, calm. His breaths slow and shallow. The mist slowly rising away from his face. Though his eyes never wavering from Hannibal's own.

"What's happening now and about to happen is an answer. I want an admission. Admit what you are."

Hannibal adjusted the angle of his head for a bit before he replied. "Must I denounce myself as a monster while you refuse to see the one growing inside you?"

Not the answer Will wants. He whistles and the rope begins to uncoil until it snaps taut, three feet off the ground. The rope goes taut and, with it, the coils around Hannibal creak as they tighten, slowly rolling round him like a python's coils, until finally the rope tightens on his throat. Will turns and now we see the rope leads several feet to the ravenstag, facing away from Hannibal, leaning, but not pulling, waiting docilely for direction.

Hannibal craned his neck to the side, straining to breathe and speak. "Why not appeal to my better nature?"

Curious. Will can't tear his eyes from Hannibal. He steps ever so closer,

"I wasn't aware you had one."

Hannibal paused a moment. "No one can be fully aware of another human being unless we love them. By that love. We see potential in our beloved. Through that love we allow our beloved to see their potential. Expressing that love... Our beloved's potential comes true.... I love you Will...."

Those words truly hit home with Will. Yet, he can't accept them. Not yet anyway. Soon, Maybe.

Will has heard enough. He whistles again, shrill and loud. The ravenstag starts trudging forward. Blood being constricted more in the veins on Hannibal's forehead. Yet Will hears no cries or protests.

"I once promised you a reckoning."

Will arrives at the tree, face to face, not with Hannibal, but the wendigo instead. Its eyes stare at Will as hooves clop ahead. The wendigo, unblinking. Soulless.

Will stares back, not frightened. Undeterred.

"Here it is."

With that the stag steps forward a few steps and with a final creak of rope and an unexpectedly huge fan of blood erupts from the creature on the tree. Will awakens, calmly opening his eyes to stare into middle distance. No solace comes from Hannibal's dream death. Will is sweat-soaked. The dream still real and present.