Wenjack by Joseph Boyden

Author:Joseph Boyden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Canada
Published: 2016-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

BEAVER

Push out of the forest to where the straight and shining lines they built cut through my world. I stare, me, at these tracks. It’s that time now when day wants to become night but wants to stay light, too. I can see the sun smiling as it leaves through the white legs of azaadi poplar and the furry arms of gaawaandag spruce. Sun winks at me from the way I’m not supposed to follow the tracks. From my other arm that will lead me back to the school the sky has turned the colour of a fire after it’s dead. Ash snow and its cold is coming from that way, and maybe it is sent to me from the teachers at the school, from the men the colour of a fish belly who hunt me to take me back. They won’t find me. I won’t let them. I won’t go back to that place.

I walk up on the little rock hill that holds the long straight lines. Ever long when I look each way. Ever long. The wind blows cold from my arm where the school lives when I turn that way. It makes me hold my skinny jacket closer. When I look the way my nindede and my nimaamaa and my two nimiseyag live, where they wait for me, I watch the last sun set the two steel lines on fire. I think of my nindede, of what he would say. Eat. Don’t make decisions with no food in your belly. Think of your nimaamaa and what she wants for you.

The strips of mooz soften with spit. I don’t want to but swallow all the mooz down to make my belly feel better. Shiny paper that held it fits my pocket. I will keep it. It will find its use. The wind gets harder and cold up here on the tracks and outside of the trees. Which way? Nindede’s smile when I walk through our door. My two animoshag barking and jumping on me with wet tongues. My two nimiseyag laughing till we cry. Whispering to my nimaamaa that I am home now and she cries till she laughs. Follow the sun. There is no choice. I must walk till the sun comes back to push me from behind again. My two friends touched my other arm for a reason. They said to me loud as they could to not go back to where we ran from.

The map asks me to look at it to make sure and so I do. The wind shakes it and it almost sounds like the map wants to talk to me. I think I have it turned the right way. I’ve watched older people study maps and I do what I remember them doing, running my finger along what must be the railroad tracks to where I must live because it is away from the school, then taking my chin in my hand and staring some more, tapping my finger on my lips to see if this will help the map speak to me.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.