Story: Hooves, Horns, and Teeth

They came that night. Rotten maws full of needle-like teeth; dried matted fur and hollow eyes. The sound of their hooves tapping in the dirt and stone path announced their presence. One snorted and sniffed the air.

Clip-clop Clip-clop

The sound used to herald wellness and prosperity. Mules used to truck bundles of goods  here and there for the people of the town and horses clambered up the street with passengers in tow, heading for far off towns. No one here used to fear the night as they do now. Children could play in the streets until the moon rose high in the sky. Now only the soft whisper of the breathing caribou and the tap-tap-tapping of their hooves filled the night. The townspeople huddled in their homes, trapped within them until dawn burned away the darkness. A curtain twitched, just barely, as someone watched silently from the window. They made a terrifying scene, the reindeer. A dark, huddled mass, full of flesh-ripping teeth and topped with horns moved through the town, scouring for any soul unlucky enough to be caught out after dark.

It hadn’t always been like this. When the town was new and the settlers staked their claim over the land once held by another people, now dispossessed and transient, the reindeer stayed far away. Then the land was beautiful. The water ran clear and the trees grew high and the wildflowers grew so numerous they blotted out the tender green grass in the fields. Only after the land had been swallowed by its new masters, its rivers sullied and the trees cleared, did it change. The earth grew sick and, like antibodies, the reindeer appeared.

They were dumb, vicious brutes. They could rip a man’s arm clean off and leave him for dead. In a herd they could trample a house and a swift kick could kill a child. They were oversized, with bloated stomachs hanging low and full of meat. Their shoddy appearance disguised their agility. Appearing each night only the vanish with the sun, the reindeer now ruled the town. In the early days of their arrival they ran many men down – men who had sworn to capture them and kill them. Few were able to do so. The reindeer’s thick hide left it nearly impervious to damage and its short temper made it a fierce foe. Too often the town’s hunters became the hunted until they thought it best not to further disturb the beasts but to let them pass.

The great beasts became more reckless with time. As the town killed more and more animals for food and dumped more and more of their waste into the water, and threw more and more of their garbage into the surrounding area, the reindeer multiplied. What started as a small group – four or five individuals – was now a full blown legion. Now, their presence weighs like a stone around the neck of the town. Little recourse is available to the people who once called this living nightmare their home. Now, people pack their things and leave.

Clip-clop Clip-clop

The sound now heralds an exodus from the town, now claimed by the ravenous reindeer. Each family, tired of living in fear, now moves on to greener fields, ones not yet infested with the flesh-devouring monstrosities of the night. Some believe this to be the ultimate end of the reindeer, as ghastly retribution for an Earth mistreated. As mother nature was wronged so mother nature sets the score even.

The old town, littered now with garbage which blows between dilapidated houses, stands empty, a testament to the culture which had once claimed it. The reindeer, they say, have lost their teeth now. Without their human prey they have resorted to feeding on the greens which grow lush in the fallow fields. As time wears on and the traces of humans wear away, the reindeer grow fewer still. They now seem as tame beasts, chewing their grass contentedly, drifting between the trees. The memories of their vicious ancestors fade, as do the scars of a neglectful town.

(a herd of reindeer)

Author's Note: This story was based just on a small tidbit from the Raven's myth. In it, vicious, sharp teethed reindeer kill and eat men for over-hunting in the area. The town's people are able to rid themselves of them by setting out very sour berries which cause their teeth to fall out. In my story, I capitalized on the idea of vicious, man eating reindeer and really focused on trying to describe them and the fear they were bringing to that town. In addition, I took out the part about the sour berries because I rather enjoyed the idea of mother nature retaining some kind of guard against more exploitative humans. I kind of think that if someone were to move back into the area and mistreat it, then the reindeer would regrow their sharp teeth and start eating people again.

Myths and Legends of Alaska, edited by Katharine Berry Judson (1911)