After the Lamb's Wrath - Hannibal

Prologue

     "It's beautiful." Will Graham was overwhelmed with its beauty. Its changing. His becoming.
     The men embraced each other, covered in blood. Some of it was the Devil's, some was the Lamb's, and some was that of the Great Red Dragon. All of it was black in the moonlight.
     Will looked down at the crashing waves meters below him, then back at Doctor Lecter. He did not speak, but his eyes conveyed the question they were both asking: What will happen?
     The next thing the pair knew, they were underwater, every inch of their bodies stinging from the salt and the crash and the cold. The water was as black as the blood. It was cold. Too cold, and just cold enough.
     The men clawed their way to the surface, fighting the waves and the rocks and the cold to breathe. The entire time, each man was aware of the other mirroring his own actions.
     They broke through the surface at the same time, gasping for air. The euphoria of near death pumped through their veins. It was beautiful.
     "This way," Hannibal directed. He began swimming toward the rocky shore. Swimming to shelter that he knew was there.
     Will followed Hannibal to the shore: a small stretch of smooth rock in the midst of jagged obsidian daggers.
     When they finally reached solid ground, they both collapsed in exhaustion, breathing heavily.
     Hannibal spoke first, softly breaking the non-silent silence. "I assume you gave Bedelia a head start?"
     Will nodded, and it was beautiful.