The rope dug into my wrists as I was led over the rocky ground to the place of my death. Those same rocks that would be the end of me cut my bare feet as my family and I were conducted to our demise. I know why I have to die. It seems unfair that I should be punished for my father's sin. I, who was born in the desert into a wandering nation, I, who mourned the death of God's faithful servant, Moses and I, who have seen miracles, why should I have to endure this painful death and that which follows for my father's folly. I care not for riches, I've never had them! But it seems these recently acquired riches are my family's ruin. What are two hundred shekels of silver and fifty shekels of gold in the grand scheme of things? Apparently it is enough to kill a man and his family. I should, no, I will accept my fate; after all, it is my father's fault God left Israel, again.