By the time Isabella went back to check on her new tools, several hours had passed. The fire in the workshop had burned low, and only a gentle orange light shone over the stone trays.
Her rough paper sheets lay there quietly.
She touched the nearest one very carefully, like it might crumble if she breathed too hard on it. The surface felt dry and firm. When she lifted one edge, it peeled away without tearing.
The sheet was ugly. It was grainy, uneven, and had tiny holes in it. It was also thick, more like a thin bark than real paper. But it did not fall apart.
"That is right," she said under her breath. "You are ugly, but you are mine. You will work."
Bubu made a pleased sound in her mind.
[Host has created functional Stone Age paper. The gods of education are confused, but I am proud.]
"Good," Isabella replied. "Now we will test if it survives beastman hands."
