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Alex (fatheralex) wrote in thefield,

Unlacing his own boots Alex nodded and slid his stinky feet out. He didn't have any socks nor were these originally his own boots. He'd found them near a skeleton of what he assumed had once been the previous owner. Wearing a dead mans boots bothered him less than he suspected it should have. Taking them from a corpse however, or at least a skeleton, did bother him and he prayed for the nameless man and gave thanks for his boots daily.

"Keep your fingers," he cautioned with a weak smile, "You'll need them later. Anyways, this is just a rest stop, not a permanent place," he flexed his feet and felt like he could feel the skin tearing, but when he looked they were fine. Tired, sore and developing blisters, but fine. "I never much wanted to be a missionary and was always glad that if I had to be one at some point, I was living in modern times with malaria vaccines and whatnot. And then I ended up here. I keep wondering what the Spanish missionaries thought when they were in the new world conquering the Incas and Mayans and spreading Catholicism. And if they had to pull the carts," he grinned and closed his eyes.