A young boy sat on his haunches in the sand outside the big tent that was his home. He was a sturdy boy, his brown arms and legs grown darker from a life spent in the open air. His red hair shone in the sun and his freckled face wore a frown of concentration. He was busily filing a point onto a piece of reed with the sharp edge of a stone. A small pile of sharpened sticks lay beside him, together with a bow. He ran the tip of his tongue over his dry lips. It was so hot. But he had nearly finished. Just one more to do and then - his eyes brightened - then he could go and hunt some of the small desert animals that made their homes among the rocks!
He heard a movement behind him. The doorflap of the tent was lifted up and a second boy appeared. He was the same age as the first one, but there the likeness stopped. This boy was as pale as the other was dark. He had a small, girlish face and his long, dark hair fell in a fringe across his eyes. He would have been a very goodlooking boy, if it wasn't for his eyes. They were too close together and always darting around. Strange eyes for such a young boy.
He looked at his brother for a moment, his eyes mocking.
"What are you doing, Esav?"
"Making arrows."
"Arrows? Again?"
"Yes. I'm going to hunt."
Yakov flung back his head and laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh. Esav's red face grew redder.
"What's so funny?" he asked angrily, getting to his feet. "Why shouldn't I hunt? You'll see - one of these days everyone will know me. Esav the Hunter. I'll be the best!"
He glared at Yakov defiantly, but Yakov only smirked.
"Anyway," Esav said with a sneer, "I wouldn't laugh if I were you. Always hanging around Imah and the serving girls in the tent. You should have been a girl yourself!"
And with that parting shot, he bounded off with his bow and arrows, leaving Yakov sputtering with rage.
© Emmie Goodenough, 1999
A young boy sat on his haunches in the sand outside the big tent that was his home. He was a sturdy boy, his brown arms and legs grown darker from a life spent in the open air. His red hair shone in the sun and his freckled face wore a frown of concentration. He was busily filing a point onto a piece of reed with the sharp edge of a stone. A small pile of sharpened sticks lay beside him, together with a bow. He ran the tip of his tongue over his dry lips. It was so hot. But he had nearly finished. Just one more to do and then - his eyes brightened - then he could go and hunt some of the small desert animals that made their homes among the rocks!
