title: A Walk in the Woods aliases: [] tags: [FA] author: [ArgentVZ] id: [33441267] date: 星期五, 八月 26日 2022, 10:48:43 上午 modified: 星期三, 八月 31日 2022, 11:02:51 上午

[TOC]

A Walk in the Woods

Author: ArgentVZ Source: A Walk in the Woods

The forest was serenely quiet, as was so often the case. Without a bustling town or busy road nearby, there was little to disturb the mostly untouched wilderness. The only sign of civilization’s encroachment was the single, narrow dirt track winding its way through the trees. It was a lesser known path between two of the region’s larger towns, and as such only found use with messengers and couriers willing to risk the less-patrolled route.

Today was no exception. A tall, armored figure ventured along the narrow path at a slow, casual pace. Where others might’ve feared being robbed, the sergal knew he had nothing to fear. Standing nearly seven feet tall and covered in armor plates, the soldier’s appearance alone would likely dissuade any bandits—not even accounting for the weapons he carried or his own physical strength.

One was a short sword, sheathed at his hip and able to be drawn at a moment’s notice. The second was a massive polearm, a staff nearly three quarters of his height in length and tipped with a fearsomely sharp head. It was just as effective being swung like an axe as it was stabbed and slashed like a sword. Being so long and heavy, it was relegated to being slung over his back on a long sling, and functioned more to intimidate potential enemies than to actually be used.

All of it served to make the chance of encountering another person extremely low—and Caylex didn’t mind at all. He came to the wilderness to escape the city. Urban life and the duties therein grew tiring after a time, and it was nice to be able to get outside of the walls every once in a while. No thieves to chase down, no aimlessly wandering painful cobblestone streets, and no staring blankly into the distance from atop the city’s stone walls; just him and the sights and sounds of the untouched, untamed forest.

He was almost distracted enough by his sightseeing to miss a tiny flash of movement in front of him—almost, anyway. The fluttering of grass a dozen paces ahead caught his eye, and a faint smile crept onto the edges of Caylex’s mouth. While there were many things that could’ve caused such a disturbance, he hoped—and assumed—that it was something more “fun” than a simple squirrel or rabbit.

The sergal pretended not to notice the movement and kept walking at his casual pace. But, when his strides were nearly even with where he’d seen the motion, Caylex made his move. His paw lifted as if to take a normal step; but instead of swinging it forward, he switched its direction midair and swung it off the path. With long toes splayed wide, the sergal’s broad paw thumped down directly onto the clump of grass where he’d previously seem the movement.

He partly expected to feel nothing but the soft, familiar tickle of grass beneath his bare, padded sole. It would’ve been disappointing, to say the least. However, Caylex was lucky; almost immediately there was a violent yet suppressed squirming against his paw. Something was down there, and given his past experience there was only one thing it could be.

To confirm his suspicions, the sergal twisted his ankle, grinding the little creature into the earth in an attempt to momentarily stun it—as if his heavy stomp hadn’t already done that. He then curled his toes inward, grasping its body tightly against his pads. Looser clumps of gritty soil dropped away as the sergal’s paw lifted and turned over, ready to be inspected. Caylex leaned against a tree with one hand, lowering his other hand to hold as paw as he examined what was mingled in with the detritus previously trampled underfoot.

Clutched in his toes’ grasp was a minute, tan-furred creature. While this particular one resembled a canine, they weren’t called such—as being compared to such pests offended the normalsized members of that genus. It also wasn’t universally accurate, as several subspecies of the undersized creatures had been discovered across the continent. In scientific circles, they were referred to as their larger species with “micro” attached as a prefix. In common parlance, however, they were simply referred as “micros,” “tinies,” or even lumped in with “vermin” and “pests.” It made sense, as the latter two were what the little beings were most often thought as.

What was certain is how smart they were. While it was maintained that they weren’t truly sentient, Caylex knew—from both hearing it from others and seeing it himself—that they were far more capable than what most gave them credit for. Although it was rare, finding settlements deep in the woods wasn’t supremely difficult. They went far beyond the simple burrows that other forest-dwellers created, often mimicking actual structures in their design. Despite being no more than small huts made of twigs, tree bark, and grass, there were still clear parallels between them and the buildings erected by their normal-sized cousins. The little creatures were also purported to have their own language, a distantly related dialect of the common language the “normal” people themselves spoke. It was mostly discounted as seditious rumor, and without any personal experience Caylex couldn’t make a judgement either way.

He gave the tiny thing, not even half as tall as his shortest toe was long, a firm squeeze to make sure it was still alive. It had gone rather still after he’d grabbed it. A ferocious kicking and squirming followed, to which Caylex replied with a pleased chuckle and relenting of that pressure. He didn’t free it, however—at least not until he turned his paw back towards the ground.

The sergal’s paw descended, releasing the tiny creature a few inches from the ground. It dropped to the trampled earth and stayed there, still stunned from Caylex’s thundering stomp a minute earlier. Caylex was slow in his next motions. He settled his paw back onto the ground and leaned up from the tree. His dark pads sunk minutely into the dirt path as his weight shifted; even packed down from years of being travelled, there was still a minor amount of give in the soil. He waited there for several seconds, watching and waiting to see if the micro would be able to pick itself up.

Caylex quickly found his patience running out. He wasn’t in a hurry, but watching the little thing struggle to rise quickly grew boring. He rolled his eyes and sighed. One paw lifted to barely an inch above the ground, its surface soon casting the little creature into shadow as it swung over its head. Whether or not it reacted, Caylex could no longer tell. The back of his padded walking section lowered to rest against the ground before his entire paw began to roll forward.

He didn’t feel it until almost to the base of his toes. Its legs twitched against his tough pads as his weight eased over it, making Caylex chuckle once again. Its body and arms followed suit as warm, dusty padflesh squeezed down once again. By the time his toes touched down, the tiny creature was frantically trying to squirm free from his oppressive sole. The ceiling of dark, firm pads was certainly threatening to flatten it, as its minute body continued to try and find escape from the pressure in the contours of his sole or the imperfections in the ground.

Caylex smirked as it struggled uselessly against him. “You should’ve tried harder,” he said to nobody in particular—then simply leaned forward onto his foot.

There was an immediate response. For a brief moment, the micro’s struggles intensified to a fever pitch, as the pressure mounted to an unbearable degree. And then, in an instant, its body surrendered to the sergal’s overwhelming weight. With a crunch not dissimilar to the one made by dry leaves underfoot, its form gave way. Caylex pressed down further, his grin widening ever so slightly as more of the micro’s body crackled, his pads greedy for whatever sensation they could squeeze out of the little thing.

It was too small to give him much. Yet, it didn’t matter. If he wanted to feel things break underfoot, there were plenty of ways to get that. Being a guardsman gave one a certain level of deniability when it came to the more egregious criminals. One less head for an executioner to lop off wasn’t entirely unwelcome, even if nobody would openly admit to it.

However, that didn’t appeal to him in the way that crushing micros did. The former gave neither the physical sensation nor the mental satisfaction that ending a tiny, worthless life under a single step did. It was a thrilling experience from beginning to end—and Caylex’s body certainly knew that. What had been an ignorable tingling at first had now grown into a sizable lump against his armor’s groin plate. However, as much as he wanted to act on it, he’d already flattened his main source of pleasure. There wasn’t any excitement to be found in a broken toy, after all.

Caylex mentally capped his lust, saving it for later. His destination had a variety of places where one could satisfy such needs; otherwise, he was sure that the local garrison would have someone willing to “entertain” their superior—in both species and rank—in exchange for some coin. The sergal enjoyed voluntary submission just as much as he enjoyed the forced variety given to micros by his colossal paws.

And so, as he stepped off of the tiny creature, it was forgotten, added to a vague list of the many times he’d teased, toyed with, and trampled unfortunate micros beneath his broad soles. Only a few splotches of crimson remained on his dark pads, which were soon mixed in with the dust and grit staining his soles with every step. The lower-ranked solider firmly persuaded to clean Caylex’s paws later that evening had no idea of the life ended beneath that very foot, as so many had been before. It didn’t matter, in the end. They were just pests, after all.