The Sandal

Chapter One: Fireside

(THOMAS POV):

The fire crackled and popped under the dazzling night sky. Crickets sang softly in the dry grass, and the occasional mosquito hummed nearby the clustered group.

About half the apostles sat around the fire pit, chatting after a long day of travelling. The road between Jericho and Bethany was a long one, and Jesus was cheerfully insistent that they had several stops to make along the way. The Lord Himself was tucked away in His tent, as many of the others. The group had already said their evening prayers, so those who stayed out had lowered their voices for the sake of the others.

Partly listening to the common chatter from Big James and his brother John, Thomas was kneeling beside his tent repacking his belongings into his leather bag — often rubbing his cold hands together for warmth. He frowned as his hand slid upon his flask. He hadn't remembered refilling it, and yet it was heavy with cool water. Curious yet grateful, Thomas realized Judas must have grabbed it when he was getting ready for bed. The young apostle who shared the tent with him was sound asleep inside.

The firelight was shrouded from his view as Nathanael walked up to him, "Thomas, can I help with that?"

Thomas shrugged wearily, "No, I think I'm good. Are you heading to bed as well?"

"I'm keeping the fire for the first watch," Nathanael looked back at the fire, "Big James will take the next one."

"Did Jesus say where we're going tomorrow?" Thomas glanced up, hoping for an answer. It wasn't like he didn't love following Jesus wherever he went, yet He could be quite... sudden.

His fellow disciple shook his head, "I suppose we'll know tomorrow."

Thomas gave him a small smile, "Well then... Shalom."

As Nathanael gave him a polite nod and turned away, Thomas slid into the tent where Judas was dozing silently. He removed his outer tunic and lowered himself onto the uncomfortable mat which served as a barrier between he and the cold rocky earth. For several moments he lay on his back staring at the dark tent wall, but eventually he gave in to the gentle hands of sleep.

(NATHANAEL POV):

Nathanael ran a hand through his dark hair as he sat beside the fire. He prodded the charcoal with a slightly damp stick, practically tasting the stream of smoke that rose from the dark flame-covered wood. Bouncing his knee, he stared at Thomas and Judas's tent impatiently. Surely they would have gone to sleep by now?

Quietly, he rose from the log and stepped carefully over to the structure before crouching down by Thomas's belongings. Underneath his bag he found a very nice pair of sandals. Yet it wasn't just that they were nice... but one caught his eye in particular. Thomas's left sandal. Eyes brimming up with welcoming tears, Nathanael picked the sandal up and pet it lovingly. Never before had he been honoured enough to touch the treasure. It was dusty from the several-hour-trek across the plains, so he made his way behind the tents where a small creek trickled. He rinsed it off thoroughly until it shined, then set it beside the fire to keep it warm and to dry off.

"I need this." He whispered to the sandal. He looked around past the tents where the land was dark and mysteriously unwelcoming. He felt the comforting reassurance of the sandal beckon him to gaze at it. It radiated nothing but soothing compassion.

This sandal meant everything to him.