Boots On The Ground Synonym Novels & Stories

They were still standing exactly where they had been, as if their feet had never even touched the ground. Even if they ran like wheels of fire beneath their legs—what was the point?

“Don’t come out until I say.” By the time she turned back toward the front of the workshop/sitting room, the sound of boots had replaced the hoofbeats. Heavy, iron-clad, and getting closer.

"I keep coming back to that word. Not as a physical thing. As what you need before you build anything. You need ground that is actually solid. That is what the place would give. A ground to stand on." Lucian was quiet as he listened. "Ground," he said after a moment when I was done talking. "It needs a better form than that," I said. "But the idea is that." "The Grounding," he said as if thinking. "Or just Ground. One word." I said it in my head. Ground. "Ground," I said out loud. It sat correctly in my heart and in the air. It was not perfect. Nothing sat perfectly anywhere but it sat with the quality of a word that would wear in rather than wear out, that would mean more over time rather t

I move towards a mountain that isn’t too high but not low, it would allow me see things that I won’t see form standing on mere ground. Thank God for the gloves and hiking Boots. I crawl with my hands and feet, climbing gently because the last thing I need now is to fall down this height. My nails claws at the cold bumpy surface. The sound of my boots echo louder in the quite. Fresh coldness clamps my lungs as I breathe trying not to shiver. I exhale loudly as I get to the top. I stand upright and look around me looking into the tall trees then I saw feet, or rather boots on legs.

"Michael, what the fuck are you doing down there? This isn't a sight-seeing tour." Smart bastard... And, filling my lungs again, I pull up from my right arm, reaching, and pushing up from the feet again... ... and my feet skid... I don't know if the brickwork is iced or just sheened in condensation, but the soles of my boots slide like some old slips-on-the-banana-skin joke, lose contact with the wall and abruptly, I'm dangling...

Even in morning sunlight, she looked lethal. She barely looked at me. "What are we looking for?" I gestured to the damp ground. "There." “I thought there were casualties Sir. I have no business being in the field.” she protested and honestly, I don't know why I brought her here either. She knelt slowly, her fingers brushing over the trampled ground. "Lightweight boots. This pattern suggests military-grade and they walked close to the hedge line. It is intentional, practiced. Not a casual trespasser."

The sound of boots were immediately heard from a distance. “You still underestimate me child!”

"Speaking of feet, your boots look fantastic on you, Mom." "Yeah fantastically slutty you mean, but I guess that is why you bought them for me huh, Tony." Slutty indeed as the black leather boots with their 4.5 inch stiletto heels come all the way up to her knees. He doesn't bother to respond. Instead he gives her a wan smile indicating what she said is the truth.

I hear the heavy thud of boots landing on the floorboards.

A few times, my wolf threatened to come forth, but I was in better control of it. I got a pair of Jogging boots from last night's shopping. Before now, I jogged on my ten toes, surely obscure, but when I saw humans run just as I did one on the side of the street, or on the bridge over a river, they did put that on. I found the design fascinating so I got mine, a pair of black boots.