Banned: A Short Story

Betrayal. Banished. Words I could not understand as a small child, but I now do. Left with minimal options, my parents had taken the latter choice. They chose to bear the shame and disappointment of banishment, rather than death. The ruler had given till sun down the next day to desert what used to be my home.
Early the next morning, it was time. The second month of Shumo, the eighteenth day in the third year of Khaba, as we walked down paths, workers turned their backs, mothers rushed children inside. We had been shunned, never to be accepted back, although my parents held their heads high. What we had on our backs, is what we were left with, no more, no less.
The last months of Shumo passed by quickly. We had covered a great amount of land, using the great river as a guide. My father had taken on the task of providing for us, learning the ways of our ancestors. He always looked after us, never straying far when attempting to hunt. Often times it would be small fish, occasionally something a bit bigger, but at least we were fed.

We wake at daybreak after a rough night, and eat any leftovers from the night before. Then continue on our journey till the sun was well above our head. We stop for a short break, and father would normally try to catch something, often having little luck. We would then continue on till the land and sun met. We would stop and find food and create a bit of shelter for the rough night. As the sun lowered, my father had no luck. We told him we would be fine for the night, but he wanted us to be well fed, as he blamed himself for being the reason we had been banished. Rather than using the basket, he grabbed his spear for the first time, and walked into the river. He was not to deep, the water barely grazing his knees. My mother and I sat huddled together on the sand watching him stab at the ground until the sun