The Translation of Dr Apelles by David Treuer

Author:David Treuer
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-55597-079-6
Publisher: Graywolf Press

Apelles walked last in line behind his father.

He dragged an empty toboggan on a long rope. His uncle, walking ahead of his father, swayed back and forth with each step.

Far ahead, the three white hunters also walked in single file. The hunter in the lead carried a kerosene lantern but it confused the trail, casting shadows counter to the moon, and the men stumbled, each in the footprint of the man in front of him. One of them swore. It was hard to hear him. They seemed far away.

Apelles’ father and uncle walked without a light. The moon brightened the snow. It was easy for them to see. It was very cold. Apelles’ breath was visible in the moonlight. He struggled to keep up with his father’s long strides.

“Dede, did he do it on purpose?”

“Gaawiin ingikendanziin. Ganabaj. Ganabaj gosha.”

His father did not slow down to answer.

“And we’re going to use the toboggan to bring him back?”

“Eh. Giga-gagwejitoomin iw.”

They walked along in silence for a while. The woods, so familiar in daylight, seemed mysterious and strange.

Apelles hastened to keep up with the adults, but it was difficult because with each step his feet slid and churned in the broken snow. It was impossible to hear anything except the sound of their feet. There was nothing else to hear.

“Indede, what’s rigor mortis?”

His father shrugged and did not answer.

But his uncle turned and said over his shoulder, “When the body gets stiff.”

He had been in the war and knew a lot of things. After a moment, he added for his brother’s benefit, “Dibishkoo go ginoozhe agidiskwam ayaa.”

They walked on in silence. The thick hardwoods, the long trunks cutting the snow, began to thin, and the trail rose as they neared high ground.

Up ahead they saw the three hunters stop on the trail. They milled for a few seconds until the man with the lantern held it up high over his head and said in a too-loud voice, “Right here.”

When they reached the hunters they could see a few sets of tracks going into and coming out of the woods from the other direction.

One of the hunters clapped his gloved hands together and spit tobacco juice in the snow. The bristles on his jaw glinted in the lamplight. His nose was running, and the snot pooled on his upper lip. It was very cold.

They all turned from the main trail. The hunters once again took the lead. It was darker in there. The trees grew closer together. It was difficult to distinguish shade and shadow from the tree trunks. The hunter in front held the lantern high and when he moved his arm back and forth the brush shadows, with as much substance as the brush itself, danced suddenly to the side.

Apelles walked last in line tugging the toboggan. He kept his eyes on the ground. It was easier that way not to wonder how much farther they had to go. Snow clung where his father’s pants bunched just above his boots.

Finally the white man with the lantern stopped underneath a large tree.

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