I remember days when I felt ready to die of thirst and weariness, but I always found new strength. It was all because of Acsah, Caleb's daughter. She was about my own age and the child of his old age by a much younger wife. Caleb doted on Acsah and granted her every whim, as any man would. Acsah had a keen mind and a fiery spirit, and she knew how to get her way. Never content to stay in the tents of the women, she had to follow Caleb and learn the ways of war. He never let her go with him into battle, but he always said that women should learn to defend their homes. Acsah would put aside her bangles and appear at Caleb's side dressed up in a man's tunic and leather jerkin and cap, lithe and lean and as tall as most men of Israel, though we are not a tall people. Caleb had taught her how to use a spear as well as anyone. She never rode her donkey when we trained but kept pace with us on foot. Though we might be dusty, blistered, stumbling and gasping for breath, Acsah always looked eager to set an even faster pace. Her face gleamed like polished cedar, her hair shone like a raven's wing, and her eyes sparkled like malachite set about with rubies. Her voice ... ah, her voice rang like tinkling cymbals when she laughed and taunted us to keep up.
The sight of her never failed to put new life into me and many--too many others who hated or adored her from afar.