Hevel climbed the warm sloping soil of Kayin’s newest field, unconsciously trampling seedlings as he drew near to his brother. “Brother, about yesterday. With God,” he started.

     “Go away, little brother. I have work to do,” Kayin said, digging his planting stick in the ground to make a hole for another tiny fig tree.

     Hevel breathed slowly. “I wanted you to know what happened, Kayin. Why God did…”

     Kayin looked up. “God does what God does, Hevel. Haven’t you listened to father?”

“Yes, Kayin. But I also listen to mother.”

     Kayin looked beyond his brother and took in the path of crushed life crossing the field. “Look what you’ve done, you idiot. Look at the trees you destroyed,” he said, waving his stick at Hevel. “I nurture each one through the dry season and you don’t even stop to think where you put  your big flat feet when you stomp across my field.”

     “You didn’t get the message, Kayin. God doesn’t’ give a dung beetle’s treasure for your shriveled plants. We’re created in God’s image. He doesn’t care for girly men. God wants us to be real men.”

     Kayin lowered his stick and leaned on it. “Is that what you think, little brother? That killing makes you a man?”

     “It’s not what I think, Kayin,” Hevel said, dropping his gesturing hands to his side. “It’s what God thinks. You saw who pleased God yesterday. What part of “loser” don’t you understand?

     “I should be like you then, little brother,” Kayin said, hardening his grip on his stick, “and leave the fields to the women?”

     “Now you’re talking, Kayin. Come with me and learn what it means to be pleasing to God. You…” Hevel stepped back. “What are you doing, Kayin?”

     Kayin followed, step for step, his planting stick pointed at Hevel’s chest. “Any fickle puff of smoke can slaughter a dumb sheep, Hevel. Where’s the power in that? But a man, Hevel, now there’s a challenge. Only a man, or a God, can kill another man. How will that please God?”

     “Kayin, wait, you have it wrong,” he said, reaching. “That’s not killing, that’s murder!”

     “Yes. And your point is, little brother?”

     “It’s not the same.”

     “Of course it isn’t, Hevel. Killing is a pale shadow of murder.” Kayin thrust his stick into Hevel’s chest and pushed hard and toppled him and leaned into his stick until it came out his little brother’s back and pinned him to the ground and his stick wicked the blood from Hevel’s shaking body into the thirsty soil.

     After Hevel ceased to move, Kayin piled stone upon stone and branch upon branch and cut out the fat-parts and laid them on the branches. Kayin sent a prayer to God, sparked the fire and waited for the pleasing odor to bring God.