Angel of Oblivion by Maja Haderlap Page A

good wishes and looks at me blankly. Sveršina tries to explain. The strong old woman nods and sways her powerful body back and forth while we eat. I watch her fromthe corner of my eye and can’t help thinking of Grandmother and how this Gregorička was capable of throwing men into the air and carrying my weakened grandmother out of the camp.
    One hunter tells us that a neighbor of his, who had fought with the partisans during the war and had just died, once told him that he saw a white stag when he was out on watch, not in a raised hide, and he had an intuition that his partisan bunker had been betrayed. He warned his comrades, but they wouldn’t listen. The police did, in fact, raid the bunker the next day. It was a sign and you have to heed signs, the hunter says. Sveršina says it’s nonsense. Intuition, what do you mean, intuition, he blusters. The fear of falling into the Gestapo’s hands had nothing supernatural about it. After he brought Kori to the partisans, it wasn’t long before the police showed up at the Brečks’ farm. Someone must have gotten wind of it and the next thing you know, he was off to Mauthausen!
    Father asks the hunters if they still remember who was the best shot in Lepena. Well, he says, well, you don’t remember. It was old Farmer Mozgan’s wife, he says after a short pause, as if playing the queen of spades. She was a legendary poacher and bagged some powerful roe. What do you say to that, Father wants to know, what have you got to say with the puny little hares you’ve bagged, you can only dream of being as good a shot as Mozgan’s wife. She sat up in the hide with her knitting and when a deer came grazing, she didn’t bat an eye, just raised her rifle and bang and done! But she didn’t make it through Ravensbrück, Sveršina throws down the joker, that was the end of her, yes, the end of her.
    Night is falling when the hunters head home, and I realize that Father has had too much to drink. He stands unsteadily and complains about the long way he has to go to get home. They press a flashlight into my hand and send me off with the words, you know how to look after your father.
    I lead the way and try to light up the path for Father and me. He tells me how often he has gone this way alone and how well he knows it.
    The forest begins to draw in the darkness. A keen-eared silence surrounds us and seems to be lying in wait for our footsteps. I wonder how I can keep Father talking so the stillness won’t get the upper hand. As we step out of the forest and stop in the field behind the Auprichs’ farm, I ask the name of the farmhouse we can see higher up, outlined below the top of the wooded hill. That’s the Hojniks’ farm, Father says, the Nazi police went on a rampage there as well. The family was supposed to be hauled off, but old Hojnik refused to leave. He was beaten to death on the spot. They shot his son and daughter-in-law and threw all their bodies into the cottage and set it on fire. Father’s voice cracks suddenly. He speaks in a strained tone. I find it irritating.
    A light wind sets in. The trees begin to groan as soon as we step back into the forest. Amid the rustling of the leaves, I can just make out the sound of voices and screams. I ask Father to give me his hand. He laughs and takes a big step forward to reach my hand. At that moment, he loses his balance and slides sideways down a steep scarp and ends up lying flat on the ground behind a bush. The flashlight, which fell when he grabbed for my hand, goes out. I can barely see him in the dark and hear him swearing far below. How the devil am I supposed to get back up there, he moans. I think he is hurt and get ready to slide down to him. Stay upthere, he shouts, stay right there, I can make it up on my own. He starts to crawl up the slope on all fours. The flashlight’s gone, how am I supposed to see anything in the dark, Father complains and kicks his boots into the ground to get his footing. When he is near me,