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The blizzard was coming in full force. Strong winds. Heavy snowfall. The pine trees looked like they were clothed in a white dress as the storm progressed. The forest floor once covered in leaves, now experiencing its first snowfall as winter came in full swing. There was no trace of any creature in the forest, everyone having scurried into their burrows until everything has calmed down. In between the tall trees, in a small clearing, there was a large cave that was situated on slightly higher ground, the snow piling up on top.
Inside, two warm bodies were huddled up together. Will and Hannibal lying in their nest of twigs, moss and dried grasses that Will built for them. There were probably pieces of their shed fur in there from past moons.
The two stags were lying on their sides, facing each other as they cuddled for warmth, practically sharing the same breaths while wrapped up in one another. They were careful not to poke each other with their antlers that have grown to their full size since their last shed.
Hannibal’s are long and pointed, branch-like, while Will’s are slightly shorter, mostly due to the fact that he’s a whitetail. Despite that small difference, they certainly didn’t lack efficiency. The only time he ever needs them is when he’s out hunting. And even that was rare. Other than that, he never used them, although it was good for scaring off other predators.
In spite of not having much use, he was proud of the rack he had maintained along the year. It was one of his sources of confidence, it’s why he hates it whenever it’s time for them to shed. It makes his head feel naked. Makes him feel small. Like he was some helpless thing. Something his old herd had made him feel. They had treated him like an inconvenience. Like he was just dead weight. They thought he’d never make it through winter.
He had been alone without a herd for a long time, but he got used to it. Got used to surviving through every season. He learnt to fish and hunt small prey instead of going for bigger ones that were harder to catch. Learnt to pile up on resources for winter, even if it was bark and roots that tasted horrible on the tongue. Anything and everything helped. And now that Hannibal was with him, it was much easier to get through the forces of nature. It was him after all who taught him how to hunt deer. And Will taught Hannibal how to fish.
Even now, they were working together to keep each other warm while the storm raged on outside. The wind blew and whistled, and it grew colder and colder as it went on. They had tried to cover the cave opening with some large branches and leaves, but the cold still managed to creep in and make their bodies shiver. So much for all the thick fur they developed for the season.
Hannibal buried his freezing nose into Will’s dark mane around his neck, letting out a heavy huff through his nose to try and warm up the fur a bit. You’d think two big fluffy bodies would be enough to push through the freezing cold, but even so, it didn’t seem like the case. Will sighed, his breath creating a small mist before disappearing into the air, pressing his chin on top of Hannibal’s head.
He always enjoyed feeling that sleek hair beneath his stubbled jaw, especially when they were like this. Their bare bodies pressed up together. Their thighs touching as their strong legs tangled up in a mix of grey and tan.
Hannibal was warm, but not warm enough.
Of course, if it were any other day, he would have said otherwise. But right now, it just wasn’t cutting it. He needed more, unless he wanted to freeze his hooves off.
“Hannibal,” his voice was hushed, as if afraid he would startle him. “it’s cold.”
He tried pressing himself further into the other, nuzzling his nose against his dirty blond hair as his arms grew tighter around him.
“I know…” he replied quietly, the whispers and raking claws of the storm already getting to him. Will knew that the winter has always been harder on the other. Hannibal despised the cold. Not only that, but he is very fond of their big meals, and with winter, it’s harder to get food for the both of them.
"Maybe when things clear up we can go hunting," Will suggested.
“If things do clear up,” Hannibal sighed at the thought of the blizzard lasting longer than he'd wished for.
“Right… Then I hope it ends soon…”
Hannibal didn’t say anything, only burying his nose further into Will’s mane, taking refuge in his scent.
He was unusually quiet, and Will wasn’t sure why. He had never seen him like this. At least not in the moons they have been together, roughly eleven at that. Yes, he’s been counting.
Seeing him so affected was surprising. He only ever saw him distraught when they encountered man-made things and he wasn’t exactly a fan of Will’s desire to keep them. But, this was different. Hannibal wasn’t clenching his jaw or trying to create distance between him and the underlying threat. He was just….there. Still, in their nest, as if lost in his thoughts, or perhaps trying his hardest to ignore them.
The rough bursts of wind that hit their cave startled the other with a flinch, only further proving Will’s speculating theory. Perhaps…it was the blizzard at fault. Or it was at least a catalyst for something he couldn’t see. And knowing Hannibal, it was probably the latter.
He hugged Hannibal’s head, ushering him closer into his thick fur as if shielding him from the dangers of the outside world. As if he alone could create a cocoon with mere flesh and bone. A rather grotesque thought.
After a long moment of silence, Will spoke, “You’re quiet.”
“Am I?”
He was obviously playing coy. He could always tell.
“Yeah.” He slid a hand down Hannibal’s hair, kneading it gently along its path down to his nape, making the other lean into it. “I can hear you thinking.”
“I wasn’t aware you were part jackrabbit, Will,” he huffed with a flicker of amusement.
“I’m being serious.” He only further reinforced his worry, his brows tilting up slightly as he scanned Hannibal's face. The hand resting on his nape slid down to the side of his neck, the tip of his thumb caressing over his jawline. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not exactly relevant…”
Will sighed, a bit concerned about how closed off Hannibal was being about this. He only wanted to comfort him, even if it made hurtful memories resurface. He wanted to show him that he was there for him, that Hannibal could open up to him, but he knew that was hard.
“Please…” Will pleaded quietly, looking at Hannibal with those eyes, pools of blue he knew he couldn’t refuse. He usually got what he wanted. And Hannibal was happy to oblige most of the time.
Hannibal could only sigh, mulling the question over, a hint of emotion crossing his face, but it was quickly pushed down into the black void of his eyes. “The winters from where I came from were harsher.” He paused, rethinking if he was certain about venturing into no man’s land.
“Blizzards could last for hours, even days. When you’d think it was over, their howling would come back. Persistent, hungry things.” He let his gaze roam over Will’s face, reaching out a hand to rub his large furry ear between his thumb and pointer finger. He was looking at him so softly, like he hadn’t just shut himself off from reality. “There were these flowers I was particularly fond of. Wood squills.”
Will had never seen or heard of these plants before, but hearing Hannibal talk about them made him want to know more.
“Small, blue, star-shaped flowers that bloom during the last breaths of winter, a sign of the upcoming spring,”
That's when he realized. Hannibal found solace in these flowers. Not because of their beauty, but because they were a promise of warmer days to come. They seemed special to him. It was endearing how Hannibal could feel at peace with just the simple sight of a flower. It made his heart ache with the notion that his mate no longer had that little comfort. That little hint of hope that winter would soon come to an end.
They were silent for a while, Will's gentle touches roamed over the other's back like he was trying to soothe himself more than Hannibal with the repetitive movement, marinating in his thoughts.
“Do you ever miss it…?” The question was quiet, a whisper. It seemed simple enough, but it alluded to something deeper. A request for vulnerability.
“It’s not about the place.” It was an answer, a vague one, but an answer nonetheless. He just wished he would tell him more. He didn’t know how much longer he could let this man keep running from this. He was acting like a slippery fish, constantly escaping no matter how tight his grip was.
Before Hannibal could let him get another word in, he dismissed the rest of their conversation.
“We should sleep, Will. The storm isn’t going to hold up anytime soon.”
He was afraid that this was going to happen. Hannibal had a penchant for hiding things. And it's not a matter of ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ while plucking petals from a daisy. This was about his past, his becoming. Just like he had his own when he met him. Emerging from his chrysalis like a creature that had never seen the light of day.
He knew his partner, he knew there were things he'd rather keep unsaid. How he grew up, how he had to manage with the hand he was dealt with. Afraid someone would use that hurt against him. And yet, he still let him crawl into his life. Let Will get to know him, let him see him for who he was.
Trust…is such a fragile thing to give.
***
The conversation stuck around in the back of his head for the next couple of weeks like a headache. It wasn’t surprising that it did. Hannibal never really speaks about his past, and when he does, he cherishes those precious details like a song he may never hear again.
It’s all just gotten harder since the blizzard. Having to suffer the nagging cold every night and wake up to a freezing morning, the absence of the sun draining all the heat from the earth. They have even resorted to using the pelts from their fallen prey as bedding, where there used to be moss and sticks, to keep warm. Today, Will was in charge of searching for food, leaving Hannibal to rest back at the den.
The forest smelled of evergreen needles and cedar, the moisture from the environment sneaking into his nostrils. The cold, crisp air made his warm breaths create misty clouds whenever he exhaled through his already freezing nose. He could hear the quiet crunch of snow beneath his hooves, leaving tracks behind him as he wandered deeper into the woods.
The sudden soft and gentle birdsong caught his attention, met with the sight of a northern cardinal perched on a naked tree branch. The striking red of its feathers contrasted with the mostly white surroundings, its pure black eyes scanning the area below. The cardinal had its feathers fluffed up, its body a round ball of plumage to keep warm.
He was always graced with their presence all throughout the year, but they seemed to stick out more in the winter. They always stayed put, enduring the winter’s chill instead of migrating to someplace warmer. They are one of the first birds to sing at this time of year.
On his way to his usual hunting ground, he stumbled upon a cluster of pendulous white flowers. Snowdrops. He was struck with confusion before he understood what it meant. Winter was coming to an end. And this hardy plant was a sign of that.
He kneeled down, leaning over the flowers, studying them. Petals white like snow, facing down with shyness, the green stems sticking out like a sore thumb among the frozen landscape. They appeared delicate at first, but to thrive in this cold meant they were anything but that.
He had seen snowdrops before, but he never gave them that much thought or importance. Looking at them now reminds him of the talk he had with Hannibal during the blizzard. He remembered the flowers he had spoken of. Wood squills. Blue star-shaped flowers that bloomed in early spring. A beacon of hope.
Snowdrops seemed to imitate that sentiment, despite not looking anything like wood squills. At least not from the description he was given.
After he stood back up, he stepped away from the cluster, taking it in for a moment before focusing back on the task at hand.
Hunting.
He wasn’t sure if he was going to bring anything back home, but the weather was clear enough for him to try to find prey.
He had grown thinner with the season, the awful roots not offering his body what it truly craved. He sure as hell hoped he would find something. With that revived determination, he continued walking towards the grounds on the lookout for much-needed food.
Eventually, his ears picked up on a sound in the nearby thicket, immediately making him drop down to a stalk, keeping his body close to the ground. His haunches and shoulders were wound-up like a spring, ready to pounce at anything that appeared. He even made sure that he was facing upwind so his scent wouldn’t carry to his unsuspecting prey.
From the bushes, a hare popped out. A big one too. Its white fur helped it camouflage with its environment, unlike Will, whose fur was a dark grey along his mane, lower back and legs, contrasting with the snow’s blinding white. The small creature’s large webbed feet helped it from sinking into the thick layer beneath its paws, one of the few blessings nature had chosen to give to protect it from predators. In this case, him.
Once the hare seemed distracted enough, nibbling on some twigs, he lunged at it, his strong legs giving him the boost he needed to capture the mammal, snapping his jaws around its neck and crushing its airway.
It squirmed in his grasp, its hind legs kicking air until it stopped moving altogether.
The slight trickle of blood coming from the neck painted the ground red in small drips, like crushed holly berries hidden beneath the veil of snow.
He was hunched over the ground with the hare still in his mouth, finally dropping its lifeless body with a quiet thud. His teeth were stained with the blood, the crimson dripping down his lips. He stared down at the body, silently studying it as if its form had changed, although the only thing different about it was the lack of light in its eyes.
But there was something else about it. He wasn’t sure if it was the flailing of its paws or the quiet choked squeals when he tried to take its life as quickly as possible. He wasn’t cruel enough to make it suffer. He was just trying to survive like the hare was.
Death was a common sight to him. He saw it on a daily basis. He was one of its enablers. When he killed, he saw that same flicker of life leave his prey every time.
It made him feel powerful. As if he were Mother Nature itself, choosing whose life would prevail over the other. And when the time came, he would let her take his too. He would let her bring him down to the river and dip him into its cold ripples, letting himself be swept away and carried by those tendrils.
But power came with responsibility. And his responsibility was to honour the hare’s life even in death. Honour it for the mouths it’d feed. And if honouring it meant giving it a new beginning, a new purpose, then that was what he was going to do.
***
“You’re back,” Hannibal acknowledged his mate’s arrival with a smile, cocking his head to the side when he noticed the dangling hare in the other’s hands.
“Mhm,” He sauntered over towards Hannibal’s lying form, dropping the hare beside the nest and lying down next to him to rub their noses together. “Hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m famished,” Hannibal replied with an amused smirk, taking the liberty to start sinking his canines into the prey’s back, ripping the hide from the flesh so he could access it without accidentally swallowing fur.
It was a fine morsel. The meat’s juices oozing between his teeth felt satisfying, the consistency just right as the chunk of muscle was quickly downed.
He was just about to tear into the prey’s belly before he noticed a long thin gash across the front of its torso, from chest to pelvis.
“Will-”
“Shh… Look.” he whispered softly like he was trying to beckon an animal over with his honeyed voice.
With a raised eyebrow, he peeked inside of the open wound, expecting there to be merely guts and bones. A ribcage offering shelter to a heart, two lungs, a stomach, a liver, intestines, but along with all those, he found three plucked snowdrops. Their white petals were stained red with blood, a harmonious combination of colours, he would go as far as to say. He could tell they had been carefully picked, their stems remaining fully intact alongside their bulbs and roots.
“Why?”
“I thought that…since snowdrops bloom at the end of winter…it would make a good substitute for your wood squills.” He looked at Hannibal with those caring eyes. He could drown in them without a doubt. It felt as if he was standing on a frozen lake, only seconds away from plummeting beneath the breaking ice.
Will could tell what he was thinking or feeling with a single look. As if they were one. Conjoined. “We can plant them… This way, you might feel as though winter won’t last forever, as long as these are around.”
“Will…”
His eyes were glued to the snowdrops. He was speechless for someone that usually always had something to say. He couldn't make his voice come out even if he tried to pull it out by the vocal chords. He carefully took the flowers out of the animal’s body, letting them slump in his hands.
It was such a simple offering and yet it felt like devotion.
He was stuck in place, tempted to squeeze his hands around the delicate plants, but he controlled his body’s urge to tense up. His sensitive nose could already tell the flower’s scent without leaning in. Notes of honey and almond mixed into a sweet and fresh combination of aromas, giving it something distinctly unique. He felt Will lean against his side, immediately making him rest his head on his shoulder, burying his face into his mane just like he had done when the blizzard had hit and they had been searching for warmth in each other.
Suddenly he was that little boy in the snow again, holding tightly onto his sister's body, cold and limp in his grasp. His true nature that he had tried so hard to hide from her wanted to claw out of his body and wail. He knew she would have been horrified if she got to see him for all that he was, but a small part of him hoped she would have understood. How different things could have been...
At last he bestowed his forgiveness upon her lying corpse, keeping her warm inside of his belly where she could live within him and see through his eyes. In his mind she would forever live.
He could feel one of Will’s hands reach up to card through his hair, pulling him out of his thoughts. The other had gone down to fold Hannibal’s open palms over the flowers, his rough yet soft hand placed over his own. It was comforting. It was something he had wanted for so long and despite having received this kind of touch so many times, it never made him want it any less.
The intense blend of touch, smell and the lingering taste of hare in his mouth overwhelmed his senses. He couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyelids, already feeling them break through his lashes. He knew that Will could probably feel them seeping into his thick fur, but the other didn’t seem to mind.
The hand in his hair moved to pull his face up from where it was buried so they were looking at each other, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear on his cheek, rubbing over the spot until Hannibal’s skin felt moist. Will’s forehead gently pressed against his, their noses brushing together as their antlers bumped against one another with a soft clack. He could feel the exterior’s cold breeze blow through the cave’s entrance, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
He only cared about this. Being here, in his den, with his beloved mate. The only one who could bring him to such a state of vulnerability. He knew this was what Will wanted from the beginning. To open him up and pull him apart until all of him could be seen. Even the parts that were hidden beneath flesh.
He would have scattered his insides across the cold stone floor in a heartbeat if Will asked. If he wished for strings for a fishing rod, he would let him have his guts. If he wanted a sharper set of teeth, he would tear out his own. And if he wished for a larger pair of antlers he would pull them out from his skull even if it meant he could never grow them back again.
Just to make him happy. That’s all he ever wanted.
Will stood up from the nest, extending his hand out for Hannibal to grab, using it as leverage to pull himself up from the cold, flat rock beneath. Their hands remained clasped together as Will started leading him out of the cave, the both of them hopping down onto the snow-covered forest floor with a soft thud, their hooves creating small circular holes into the sheet of white,
Hannibal was careful not to grip the snowdrops' stems too hard, not wanting to harm the lovely gift as he tried to contain his emotions the best he could, knowing that Will could sense them.
They walked into the empty clearing in front of the cave, their feet leaving hoof prints on the snow. Will stopped near it, making him stop in his tracks as well. He could see the other looking at him through their peripherals. His gaze was a silent suggestion. A proposal.
And Hannibal wanted nothing more than to take it.
He looked around the area, searching for a good spot where the flowers could flourish. He wanted them to get all the necessary nutrients they needed. Sunlight, water, rich soil. He just needed to find out where they could get everything they needed to bloom.
Transplanting could get difficult when there was a possibility for lack of compatability. Similar to rejection.
Perhaps he wasn’t so unfamiliar with the concept.
***
Will could see the bit of hesitation mixed with eagerness on Hannibal’s face. He was glad that his gift was accepted with delight. He had a feeling it would, he had a knack for knowing these things. Knowing what Hannibal truly wanted.
Knowing him.
He wanted to step in, but he knew that the other wanted to be the one to choose where to plant the snowdrops. It was special to him, after all. He wanted him to have this.
After many moments of looking and pondering, Hannibal finally found a good place for the flowers. Kneeling down near a specific spot on the earth, he swiped away the thin layer of snow resting upon it, creating a clear patch for where he was going to plant them.
He kneeled down next to him, side by side, skin to skin, offering help by digging his fingers into the soil to create a small dip in the earth, like a small nest. Hannibal placed each bulb carefully, helping him cover it up with the dug up dirt until the small cluster was securely embedded into the ground, their pendulous flower heads facing down like they’re supposed to.
“They’re beautiful, Will.”
This was oddly peaceful. It almost felt like they were creating new life. A life that already existed, just not known to them. He didn’t think something as simple as a flower could produce such a feeling of content in his mate, but he knew it was less about the offering and more about the meaning. Even something small could hold great significance.
This somewhat reminded him of one of his first encounters with Hannibal.
He had been out in the cold, sat on the ground, curled in on himself whilst snow kept falling upon his head and shoulders, snowflakes getting caught in his dark curls. He didn’t have the energy at the time to make the journey back to his den. He was exhausted, cold and hungry. That was until Hannibal approached him, dragging along a limp deer’s body and offering him its warm heart to feast on.
A gift.
And now, he was giving Hannibal his own.