The Stag Gem: Part 1 Chapter 8

Attikamagen Lake, Canada (approximately 50 kilometers Northeast of Schefferville)

“What happened to it, Billy?”  His friend waded over to him in the deep snow holding the only working flashlight among the two of them.

“I think my fuel line popped off.”  The 1981 Ski-Doo Blizzard and most models of its kind had a lifespan of a well-worn 10 years. Billy’s was on its 31st.  He gave it plenty of tough love and a generation’s worth of respect; despite this, there were only so many spare parts and rolls of duct tape he could put into his snowmobile before it finally began to fall apart.  Billy knew this; he was just hoping his baby would make it one more excursion before he retired it for good.

“Of all the times to have your piece of crap sled die on us, it had to be now,” Billy’s friend yelled over the sudden increasing snowy winds. 

“I’m going to need the tool bag, Joseph.”  The falling snow started to attack the two men from the side as the storm strengthened. 

“I suppose you want me to get it?”

“If you don’t mind,” Billy answered with a tinge on annoyance in his voice.  “I need to keep the hose pinched or we won’t have enough gas to get back to the hunting camp.”

“Where is it?”

“In the metal box strapped on the rear,” Billy yelled over the wind.

Joseph shielded the side of his face as he trudged the few feet to the back of the snowmobile, leaving his friend in the darkness.  “I told him this stupid sled wasn’t going to make the trip,” he muttered to himself as he opened up the metal box and pulled out the worn leather black tool bag. 

The sudden crunching of foot falls in the snow behind Joseph caught his attention. He whipped the flashlight around and pointed it out into the surrounding snow storm.

“Oh wow!”  Billy’s friend ran back to the front of the snowmobile in his existing footprints in the deep snow. 

“We got company,” Joseph smiled, shining the flashlight onto the motor and handing Billy his tool bag.

“What are you talking about?”

“Not even ten feet from us.  I saw a caribou.  It’s just standing there watching us.”

“Really?”  Billy smiled.  “You have got to be kidding me?”  He grabbed the flashlight from Joseph and shined the light out into the snow and caught sight of a large caribou’s head with one of the largest antler racks he’s ever seen in all of his years of hunting.  “This has got to be a gift.”  He put the tool bag down onto the motor.  “It looks like we won’t be going back to the camp empty handed after all.”

“I saw it first.  It’s my shot,” Joseph said; reading his friend’s thoughts.

“Are you kidding?  This is the biggest caribou I’ve ever seen!  I’m taking the shot!”

“No way, Billy!”  The two friends stared at each other in the flashlight’s dim glow.  The winds diminished slightly but the snow continued to fall in unrelenting diligence as it began to envelop the snowmobile.  Billy’s eyes darted quickly over to the wooden sled, now covered in snow, which was attached to the back of the Ski-Doo.  That was where his and Joseph’s camping supplies and guns rested.  Joseph’s eyes darted over also; quickly determining in his mind the distance and time it would take him to grab his rifle too.

Billy ran first.  Joseph quickly followed.  Billy had the advantage of the flashlight’s beam to guide him to his bag where he immediately found his gun already loaded.

Joseph lost his balance in the deep snow but was able to fall onto his bag.  He fumbled around for his rifle and was able to pick it up and aim into the darkness before he heard Billy’s gun discharge.

Both rifles fired out into the storm’s darkness in unison.

“OUCH!”  A deep and powerful voice howled.

The two friends slowly turned and looked at each other.  Their faces fell into a pale and nervous color.  “Billy, you shot someone,” Joseph muttered.

“No way, man!  I hit the caribou.  It was your sad aim that hit someone.”

“Actually, both of you shot me,” the deep voice replied in the storm’s darkness.

Billy, visibly shaking, picked up the flashlight and aimed it out towards the direction of the voice.  It fell onto the caribou as it blinked in the light’s beam.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t blind me with that,” the caribou replied.

Joseph screamed and Billy’s voice left him all together.  The flashlight brought into full view of what was actually there.  It was not a curious caribou standing there after all.  It was a nine foot tall half caribou/half human sitting cross-legged in the snow.  His head was definitely that of the hoofed mammal with a large and noble set of antlers, but the brown fur covered body was that of a large muscular man; apparently wearing nothing but a leather cloth around his waist and large fur boots.

The large beast-man stood up and approached the two frightened hunters.  “Well, what are you going to say?”

Billy was the first one who dared answer.  “Are you going to eat us?”

“Excuse me?”  The Caribou Man was slightly confused from the hunter’s response.

“I promise I will never kill your kind again.  Just please don’t eat me!”  Billy’s voice shuddered uncontrollably. He was on the verge of tears as he stared up at the towering creature.

“That is not what I wanted to hear,” The Caribou Man replied.

Joseph found the courage to speak.  “Do you want me to kill Billy?  Is that what you want to hear?  A sacrifice to you, oh dark lord?”  Joseph, shaking, pointed his gun into Billy’s shoulder.

“No!  That’s not what I want to hear at all!”  The Caribou Man threw his hands onto his hips.  “What is wrong with you people,” He howled.

“Oh god, Billy!  We’re going to die!”

The Caribou Man winced in frustration.  “I was expecting to hear an apology!  You shot me, so I naturally expected an apology from the both of you.”

There was a long pause as the two hunters digested the creature’s words.  Billy looked over to his friend who broke his gaze from the beast.  Eye contact made, Joseph shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m sorry…”

“Real sorry about that…”

“I feel really bad…”

“Never should have happened…”

The Caribou Man held up his hand, “Okay, that’s fine.  That’s good enough.”

Another long pause followed as the two hunters, filled with less fear, but incredible amounts of confusion, continued to stare at the beast.

“Actually, I should apologize to you two also.  I should have announced my arrival when I came.  It’s just that you two are the first white people I have ever seen and I was mildly curious.”

Another long silence sat between the three as the snow continued to fall.

“Hey, no problem,” Billy’s voice cracked.

Another long moment of uncomfortable silence fell.

“W-What are you,” Joseph asked nervously.
            “They call me the vengeance of the natural world, terror in a primordial form, retribution of the ancient spirits; they call me the Caribou Man,” the beast recited.

“Oh,” Joseph answered.      

The three stood in the snow for another long period of silence.

“It’s getting kind of cold out here,” Billy spoke up.

“Yeah, let’s get that motor fixed,” Joseph answered.

“I should continue on my journey as well,” The Caribou Man said.  “Could you humans point me in the direction to the Great Water?”

“You mean the Atlantic Ocean,” Billy asked?

“If that is the name you have given it.  Is the ‘First Lands of the White Man’ on the other side of it?”

“Yup, that would be the one,” Billy said.  “Just head due east.”

“Thank you,” The Caribou Man smiled.  “It was a pleasure meeting you.”  He turned away from the hunters and walked back out into the darkness.

The two friends turned and looked at each other.  “No one is going to believe this,” Joseph said, awestruck.

Billy ripped the rifle from his friend’s hands.  “You were going to shoot me?!”