The field laid wide, miles of dead grass standing high; to the waist in some places. We held ranks scattered along the hillside. Lines were droll, according to King David, limiting greatness in the art of improvised maneuvering. He set us in a kind of scrimmage formation so that the enemy never knew who to strike first. Lines were droll and vulnerable. This way, we could see each other and shift forces as we saw the need. Our King and Commander trusted us to make those calls, he knew us well and we knew him. I stood near the epicenter, by his side and ready for the encroaching enemy.
As they come into view, so do the clouds and rain begins to fall upon the dead field. Thin streaks glance our shoulders and swords. It is a cool rain, stinging and lively. We keep our focus, because we look to David and see that he keeps his. The rain dodges his skin when Philistines are near. The rain does nothing to extinguish the flame in his eyes.
I look back to see the Philistines coming over the distant knolls, hundreds and never-ending. The more, the merrier. We are few but we are enough. I bend my knees to flex, and roll my neck, full of pops and snaps. Three-hundred yards from impact, two-hundred. They break into a sprint and raise their arms of bronze and steel. A cry rises up among them, crude and brutal. And their ranks continue to billow over the hills like a flood of flesh and bone and rage. One-hundred yards, I crack my knuckles and look to my left. My brothers have taken steps back. What are they doing? To my right, I see fear in the eyes of Mighty Men.
Let them go, my King says to my with a nod, keeping his eye on the approaching hoard. We've got this covered, you and I. He knows I am steadfast, but I thought the others were too. He knew better, or if he didn't, he doesn't care in the moment. Our ranks scatter like the petty Jews we defend, shrinking into shadows and homes. But remaining, my King and I with our swords, we stand ready. Fifty yards and David leaps to meet them, roaring at the top of his lungs, and audible over their tumult. I tighten the grip on my sword and race after him, roaring all the same.
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