//------------------------------//
// Chapter Eight: Dance's End, Part One. 
// Story: The Manehatten Project 
// by Ddraigtanto 
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Meanwhile...

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A week: Paver had been forced through her endless dancing for a week now. It had been a strict routine her shoes had forced her into from the second they skipped and twirled her off the beach upon which she'd washed up. She gained respite only when her legs where physically too pained and too tired to move, whereupon she'd finally collapse, and be granted rest until her aching limbs gained strength enough to move again.

She had barely survived so far, and part of her was beginning to wish she'd simply drowned in the lake: At least her troubles would be over. The first night of her journey had been terribly frightful; the shoes had danced her up to Dragon Mountain, and the cave within which a large, red dragon had once threatened to shroud Equestria in a permanent cloud of ash as it slumbered atop a vast fortune of wealth and treasure. However, the dragon (and its treasure) had long since left the cave, and it had at least provided Paver with a shelter for the first night once her hooves gave out and she hit the floor. After that, they'd merrily skipped her down the mountain again, and into the Everfree Forest.

She'd survived only off wild berries and clean river water, all of which she had to quickly grab with her telekinesis as she passed them by. Once, she'd frolicked into a strange clearing, full of oranges... With limbs. Some had frogs legs, and hopped about, a missing wedge in their 'faces' opening and ribbiting like frogs; others had wings, and flew around like birds... But they were oranges! Fresh oranges, and Paver was starving... She'd never much cared for critrus fruits before, but now, she was so grateful for their rich, moist, fleshy fruit in her belly, it almost helped her get over the fact she had to kill the frogoranges and birdoranges, then pull off their limbs, in order to eat the actual fruit.

Her dress was ruined, plain and simple: Between being forced to climb mountains and force her way through thick brambles, bushes and forests, her gown was filthy, wet, and torn to shreds; indeed, the train of her dress was hung on the back of an especially nasty thorn bush it had become ensnared in, now leaving her hind legs and tail completely exposed to the elements; her fur had become matted and filthy, as was her mane, which was knotted and hung limply from her head and neck. Even the shoes themselves were suffering for their efforts, scuffed and scratched and caked in mud and dirt.
The effects of constantly dancing and moving were taking their toll on her body as well, leaving her malnourished and skinnier to show for it, her limbs were constantly sore, and she was quite convinced that the magic of the shoes was the only thing which was stopping her hooves from bleeding.

After a week of this existence, Paver began to wonder if she'd ever be still again, or indeed, if she'd ever see another pony again. Though she had some means to alter her direction somewhat, the shoes ultimately took her where they wanted to go; she wondered if it was a coincidence that, in her journey, the shoes had completely avoided any other ponies or settlements of any kind: The closest she'd gotten was prancing through fields between the mountains and the forests.

It was never going to end, was it? She was going to be dancing forever. Stuck in these cursed shoes, forever. She was never going to be able to stop; never able to stand still again, never able to go home, or live a normal life, or even see her family again. Her eyes were dry, but red and bloodshot: She'd already cried as much as she could cry about it. Now, she simply felt numb: There was no point crying, because that wouldn't change anything; there was no point hoping anypony would come and save her, because everypony thought she was drowned at the bottom of Lake Manehatten; there was no point being angry, because it was impossible for her to find out who did this to her, or indeed, do ANYTHING about it. She barely even felt fear anymore, because at this stage, dying would be a release; surely nothing could be worse than this...

And so came the present: What fresh hell did the shoes have in store for her today? The answer lay all around her. The forest thinned as she danced on, and everything became... Wetter; the air was far more humid, and the ground beneath her hooves was far, far muddy than before. Some parts of the ground was drier, and thus harder, while others were far more saturated and wet: Clearly, she'd been brought into a bog of some description. She shivered slightly as she moved: The air here was far warmer, and more humid than before, making the sweat and wet of her fur make her feel even colder than she'd first realized she was. There was more than that, however: Something about this place felt... Wrong, far more dangerous than anywhere else she'd been before. She didn't want to be here any longer than the shoes insisted upon.

The deeper she went into the bog, the more the ground beneath her hooves squelched, bubbled and gurgled. The ground was very soft, as one could expect from a bog. Each step she took, the ground seemed to get a little softer, and her hooves a little deeper into the muck. It was proving troublesome, even the shoes were struggling to keep up a pace: They were slowing down. The didn't give up, however, and almost seemed to make her dance more and more aggressively to force their host through the worst of the marsh... Or, force her into it.

Suddenly, the shoes made her jump into the air, almost as though trying to skip over a patch of the mud, landing on her hooves with a thick, heavy, splattery splash! Almost the second her hooves hit the soil, they sunk under the surface. Something was wrong: She wasn't dancing anymore. Her hooves were suddenly quite frantic, digging and struggling in the muck, but no matter what they, or she did, she couldn't move! She looked down feeling the cold mud bubble against the leather of her shoes: She was sinking.





Still, the shoes continued to fight and struggle. However, to her horror, this succeeded only in making her sink deeper and quicker into the mud, completely beyond her own control.
"Oh, no." Paver stammered. "Oh no, no no no..."
Something else began to change as the mud engulfed them, her ankles now sitting just above the mud's surface: The shoes were slowing down, losing their fight to free themselves. As the shoes finally stopped. At last, at long last, her hooves were still; this was NOT how Paver wanted it to happpen though: She'd gone from being trapped and nearly killed, to trapped in a different way, and if she couldn't get free, she was definitely going to die: If she didn't drown, she'd still be stuck in the mud; she'd starve, or die of dehydration, or cold. The mud, which now crept yet higher around her legs, was so damn cold, it was almost as bad as the sea itself, except she was too weak to use magic to escape this time.
"Help!" She cried out to the empty bog as she yet sunk even deeper. "Please! Somebody help me!"

She continued to sink, deeper and deeper, her heart was racing and newfound tears welled in her eyes: Not like this. She didn't want to die like this! She panicked, trying to pull herself free with all her might. However, this succeeded only in forcing her rear further down into quicksand, while her front half remained above the surface; losing her balance caused her front hooves to fall back into the mud, leaving her almost worse off than she'd been before. However, she'd stopped sinking: Her hooves had hit the bottom of the muck, now she was merely stuck in place.
She shivered in the mud: It was so, so cold.
"H-help..." She croaked, struggling to remain conscious. "P-please... Someone... H-h-help, me..."
Her visions was beginning to darken; she was exhausted, for the cold was sapping what was left of her strength. Her eyelids grew heavy, as did her head upon her neck. She closed her eyes slightly, not quite able to open them as fully again. Each blink of her eyes made her vision thinner as she blacked out. Just before she lost consciousness entirely, she thought she saw a form hovering behind the trees. It grew closer as she lost her vision entirely: The last thing she remembered hearing was a soft voice, speaking in alarm.
"Oh... Oh my..."


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