The father was working the property.

It was good land and hard work. But it beat going to war. More of that was coming.

Down across the property he saw his three sons. His three boys.

Joab was the oldest. He swung a wooden sword, attacking the bushes.

Abishai was the middle child. Small and skinny. He ran with a long stick, longer than him.

Asahel was the youngest. Barely walking, but was already talking and moving faster than his legs could go.

Joab stabbed the bush, pretending it was a beast.

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Asahel laughed and clapped and fell on his bottom.

Abishai just smiled, leaning on his staff.

"We are warriors," Joab announced. "No one will ever take us!"

The 7 or 8 year Joab raised his sword.

Abishai just smiled.

Asahel clapped again and tried to stand and fell on his bottom again.

"You will always protect us, right?" Abishai finally spoke, looking at his just older brother.

"Always!"

"And what if you cannot?"

Joab thought about it.

It was a good question.

"Well, that won't happen. And if it does, I will avenge you!"

The boys laughed and smiled and went back to stabbing the trees and woods.