Episode 2 - To the New Home (3)

After walking only a short distance in the direction my mother had pointed, a swamp thick with papyrus came into view.

Judging by the size of the plants, the marsh didn’t dry out even during the dry season. Yet the ground was nothing but mud, and I saw no signs of other animals.

I sliced down one thick stalk with my stone knife, toppled it, and held it up for Tall Bird to see.

"Hmm. What you want?"

"First we have to cut it thin and long. Can you help?"

"Easy work."

Tall Bird asked no further questions. He simply took up his own stone knife and began peeling away the outer layer in silence. The triangular cross-section made the task straightforward.

He then started slicing the white inner pith into thin, long strips.

Watching something I usually chewed into pulp now being carefully divided felt strangely wondrous, even though I already understood the plant’s structure.

I followed his lead, harvesting several more stalks, stripping their skins, and cutting the pith into slender ribbons.

"Now we must dry them."

At his words I glanced up at the sky. The true rainy season had not yet begun, so clear days were still common, but a light drizzle was falling.

"…In this weather?"

"Fine. Fire will dry them."

"With fire?"

Tall Bird nodded and gathered the sliced pith against his chest.

"Near flames, or buried in hot ash. Dries fast."

When we returned to the group, we built the fire higher, constructed a drying rack, and began laying out the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pith. Close enough for the warmth to reach, yet far enough that the flames would not scorch.

Before long, pale vapor rose slowly from the strips. The sight brought back memories of hanging wet clothes in front of a heater on winter days.

Smoke hovered low in the damp air, carrying the faint, fresh green scent of papyrus.

"Is this all right?"

Tall Bird held his hand near the rack to test the heat, then gave a slow nod.

"Good. Not too hot."

We waited while the pith dried. The drizzle continued, but the shelter of the large tree kept the fire alive.

I passed around the extra papyrus I had brought as snacks, chewing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with the others while I explained the next step to Tall Bird.

"Now we weave them."

"Like basket?"

"Yes, but flat. About the size of a foot."

I gathered a few dry twigs, laid them on the ground, and sketched the rough shape with my finger.

"Cross the strands like this and tie them. It can make a wide mat. We could sleep on something like that, but we don’t need anything so large right now."

"What you make?"

"Clothes for the feet."

"Clothes… for feet?"

Tall Bird tilted his head, clearly puzzled.

"Then just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wrap leather on feet. Not enough?"

I shook my head.

"Leather is too soft. Better than nothing, but sharp stones or thorns can pierce straight through."

The hides we used were not properly tanned—only skinned, scraped, dried, pounded, and smoked. They served well enough as clothing or blankets, but they could not protect soles that walked the earth all day.

On rough ground they would wear out and tear within hours.

To create anything worthy of the name ‘shoe,’ we needed a firm sole beneath the foot. Carving wooden boards was possible, yet they would be heavy and inflexible. Proper woodworking belonged to later ages, after bronze tools appeared.

Therefore, among the materials we could gather today, weaving tough plant fibers was the best choice.

"We’ll weave this tightly, then make it so it can be fastened to the foot."

I cupped my palm beneath my own sole in demonstration.

"It will be far better than bare feet. Hot ground will burn less, and small stones or thorns will be blocked."

"Understood. Foot-clothes. With them, can walk longer. Run faster."

"Exactly."

We did not have to wait long. Even in the damp air the pith dried to a pleasantly crisp yet slightly flexible texture.

Some moisture remained, which was actually helpful for the next step. I asked Tall Bird to tear several strips into even thinner threads.

He immediately began rolling them between his palms. His skill was astonishing; in moments, several strands became long, strong cords.

Perhaps the others found simply watching too dull. They joined in, and soon a generous pile of cord lay ready. We had brought plenty of papyrus, and cord was always in demand, so I let them continue while I selected several suitable stalks for myself.

Shoes woven from plant fiber appear in countless cultures across the earth. When I thought about it, the reason was obvious: in the wild, plants were the easiest material to obtain, and tough stems proved useful for everything.

I laid several lengths of pith side by side, then placed others across them.

"Like this. Over, under, over, under."

Demonstrating was faster than explaining. I alternated passing the horizontal strands over and under the vertical ones, reversing direction with each new row.

At first my fingers tangled constantly. In my modern life I had only practiced with hemp or rice straw, never with papyrus, so the work felt unfamiliar.

Tall Bird was different. After watching me fumble two or three times, he began copying the motion beside me.

"Like this?"

"Uh… yes."

I answered, yet felt a tiny sting of unfairness. I was supposed to be the teacher, yet the student had already surpassed me.

His fingers moved with swift precision. The thin papyrus strips interlocked beneath his touch and rapidly formed a flat, even mat.

"You really are dexterous."

"Made many. Baskets. Covers. Cord."

Tall Bird spoke as though it were nothing special. Once I heard it, the explanation was obvious. These people already lived by shaping plant stems, leather, bone, and stone into whatever they needed. More than that, their skill at crafting tools was exactly why I had accepted them into the group.

Before long, a flat papyrus pad slightly larger than my sole was complete.

I set it on the ground and placed my foot on top.

"This size should work."

"Little bigger than foot."

"The foot moves when we walk. If it fits too tightly, it will tear quickly."

I folded the edges inward and bound them firmly with cord. After wrapping and tying several times to prevent unraveling, the flat mat took on the thicker shape of a true sole.

The next part was trickier.

"Now I need to attach it to the foot…"

I picked up a length of cord and laid it experimentally across the instep. Using a sharp twig as a needle, I passed it between the big toe and second toe, brought it up over the instep, wrapped behind the ankle, and tied it again in front. The image in my mind was that of the simplest possible sandal. Executing it proved more difficult than expected.

After several attempts, I finally produced something that looked convincingly like a sandal.

Tall Bird studied the construction, then gave a slow nod.

"With this, feet hurt less. Certain."

I slipped the first finished sandal onto my foot and tied the cords.

Honestly, the shape was crude. Compared to modern shoes, it resembled a small woven mat tied to the sole more than proper footwear.

Yet when I lifted my foot, the sandal rose with it and did not fall away.

That was enough.

"Done."

At my quiet murmur the watching people began to buzz with excitement. I stood up slowly and took a few steps.

How many decades had it been since I last wore shoes? Adding my previous life and this one, more than twenty years had passed.

And my first impression after so long?

…Why didn’t I make these sooner?

It was comfortable. Overwhelmingly, astonishingly comfortable.

The papyrus was slightly scratchy and the cord between my toes a little thick, but it was still far better than walking barefoot across gravel.

Small cuts and bruises had been inevitable before. Now, with even this thin layer of protection, I could walk many times more comfortably.

"Ooh! Truly comfortable!"

Tall Bird had already made a pair to fit his own feet. He kept exclaiming in delight as he walked. The rest of the group began to gather, drawn by his reaction.

At first they simply stared at the strange objects. But when Tall Bird deliberately stepped on a patch of sharp twigs and showed no discomfort, their expressions changed at once.

"Doesn’t hurt?"

At the question, Tall Bird lifted his foot to display the sole.

"Feels strange. But hurts less."

That single sentence was all it took. Every gaze turned toward the pile of papyrus cord and pith.

Since the technique was so simple, they had learned it from watching alone.

The atmosphere felt entirely familiar.

Ah, here we go again.

It had been the same with the stone knives. The moment I demonstrated convenience, these people absorbed the idea faster than I expected and began improving upon it with frightening ease.

Some were already experimenting, twisting leather cords instead of papyrus for better comfort. One person had even begun adding a layer of leather to the sole.

Their adaptability was both impressive and a little terrifying.

In the meantime I made two more pairs and gave them to my mother and father. They accepted the gifts with gratitude and immediately tried them on.

Their first steps were awkward, but they quickly adjusted and began walking naturally.

The children, whose soles were still soft and tender, adapted fastest and reacted most strongly. Before calluses formed, even mildly rough ground made them hesitate. Now that they had proper protection, they raced about like wild foals.

"Waaaaah!"

"Feet don’t hurt!"

"So comfortable!"

The adults instinctively reached out, afraid the children would fall. Soon they realized it was unnecessary.

The children ran across gravel that would have pained them before. Of course it wasn’t perfect. Strings loosened, sandals slipped off, and a few children cried when the cords pinched between their toes.

Those problems were easily fixed.

"Tie here more. Otherwise falls off."

Tall Bird gently held a child’s ankle and wrapped the cord once more with practiced skill. Watching him, I felt a strange mixture of emotions.

I had created the thing, yet it had already left my hands.

"This good."

Father took a few steps and murmured quietly.

"On long journeys, feet will suffer less."

Now we could walk farther, endure longer, and no longer be forced to stop because of injuries. What consequences that freedom would bring, I could not yet say.

Still.

"Ahahaha!"

Seeing the children laugh so freely, I knew I would not regret it.