SARAH

            Manectric kept a slow, leisurely pace so as to stay with the group of travelers.  Sarah Spark hated slow and steady.  The escort back home to Mauville City consisted mainly of her father, Marcus, who was always talking with Prince Chris and his companions, all astride on Doduo, about the wonders of Mauville.  Prince Chris, however, seemed to take more delight with his two friends, the guard-in-training and the fisherman’s kid. 

            Sarah often wandered ahead, and King Spark often sent a couple of Mauville Guards to attend her.  For her safety, he had said.  Sarah and her Manectric reluctantly agreed. 

            “They’re safer with me than I am with them,” she said of her royal guard to her Spirit Pokémon under her breath. 

            The young Princess of Mauville sat sure of herself on Manectric, her hands free of any reigns and instead she held her bow.  She had had it since she turned thirteen, four years ago.  Her father had commissioned new bows to be made every now and then, but Sarah would never part with it. 

            Where most girls in Hoenn would learn how to curtsy and appear pretty for the men of court, Sarah spend time at the archery ranges with Manectric.  Strong-willed Princess Spark occasionally glanced back at her father along the winding trails and bridges that connected Slateport and Mauville directly. 

            The sky was as blue as Prince Chris Marsh’s eyes, which despite the spirited conversation her father was apparently having with him seemed to be glaring deep into Sarah every time she checked.

            Sarah was a princess, she had seen looks of admiration and hope to catch her eye before.  No, this fish-boy is judging me.  His Spirit Pokémon was no less fishy, always stopping to jump into a stream and swim whenever the opportunity presented itself.

            “Don’t bother to look, girl,” she said to her Manectric.  “There will be plenty of time to look at him, if what my father wants comes to pass.”  At first, she abhorred the idea of getting married on her father’s whim.  When she did her studies, however, her love of her own kingdom, tribal Chiefs, and people led her to consider her father’s offer.  There was no more valuable ally than Slateport, even after the Great War.  It was Slateport and the support that the Great Family Marsh could bring her people she was marrying, Prince Chris was just a means to the end.

            Manectric gave out a little growl, as if she was talking back to her Spirit Human.  Sarah chuckled, she understood in her gut.  “There will be no problem as long as he leaves me alone to do what I want.”

            She looked back at her potential husband to be.  This time, he was badgering his serious friend, the guard in training.  He and his other friend were laughing making jests with one another.  She noticed how the three Spirit Pokémon seemed just as fast as friends as their partners.  Marrill, Marshtomp, and Wingull, though never far from their partners, had a special friendship of their own. 

            Sarah studied the bright white smile and tanned skin of Prince Chris Marsh.  Why couldn’t he wear traveling clothes?  Show off.  The Prince of Slateport was wearing traditional Slateport gear, tight aquatic shorts, with leather straps that held a short metal sword with a sea shell encrusted handle.  A strap that crossed diagonally from his fiercely toned chest and belly held in place a long spear with a wicked, jagged harpoon head on the end.  The blue cloth he would have draped across his body was tied about one of the Doduo’s heads as if it was a scarf. 

            Her Manectric growled inquisitively.  “I admit it then,” she said to her Spirit Pokémon as she glanced at the Prince’s muscular body.  “I wouldn’t mind my children looking like that.  That is, if I don’t mind children.”  She hated looking at the women in Mauville who did nothing but stay in their homes raising children and tending their gardens.  Where was their sense of adventure?

            Eventually, they stopped at a little beach where a river emptied into the sea.  The sun was high, and Sarah remembered this spot is the halfway point that separates the Kingdoms of Slateport and Mauville.  The King, Prince Marsh and his friends, and her guards all stopped to eat a quick snack: some dried fruits and nuts.  Princess Sarah Spark had no time for snacks, however, as she and Manectric snuck off towards a standing tree to practice her aim. 

            Floom.  THUD.  The arrow struck the tree slightly to the right of the knot from where she had aimed.  Of course, for anyone else, the arrow was right on target.  For Sarah, the difference of millimeters was the difference between her hunt dying quick and painlessly or agonizing for a few seconds.  She respected the wild Pokémon that were hunted for food, and she owed them a merciful death and blessing. 

            “Nice shot,” came the smooth voice behind her. 

            Now he decides to talk to me, when it is obvious I’d rather be shooting.  “My Prince,” she said out loud, not taking her eyes off the tree as she readied the second of her three arrows.  “How nice it is to meet you.”

            He was accompanied by his Marshtomp as usual. He reached down to pet her Manectric, who surprisingly had no qualms about it.  It wasn’t often that Manectric took kindly to strangers. 

            “Your father was right,” he said as he caressed the bow and admired the arrow from her side.  “You do have a good shot.”

            Is this some Prince’s trick? I’m not one of your common girls with their hearts in their brains.  She kept her focus and released the second arrow. This one was right on target, landing slightly to the left of her first. 

            “I have a lot of good shots,” she said as she moved the long dark braid from one shoulder to the other.  “For my hunt, or for Princes who don’t mind their own business.”

            Prince Chris snorted in laughter.  “I like a sense of humor.  Maybe this proposal wasn’t such a bad idea.”  She could feel the sarcasm in his voice.

            Sarah glared at the handsome yet cocky Prince out of the corner of her eye.  “Maybe, maybe not.  I like what’s best for my kingdom.”

            “Like any good King or Queen should, as my father once told me,” said Chris as he walked to the tree where the two arrows were protruding from the bark.  He pulled out the arrows and smirked as he casually walked them back to the Princess of Mauville. 

            “It’s a good weapon to sting a foe with,” he said.  Chris Marsh held up the arrows by the tip with his fingers as he handed them back to her.  “What happens when your enemy is armored, and an inch of penetration become half?”

            Sarah felt the blood rise to her face. Was this Princeling insulting her? Before she could respond, he picked up his long spear with the jagged head from a nearby rock.  He must have brought it with him. 

            “Watch this,” he said as he pointed towards the little target tree dotted with arrow marks with his huge spear.  There was a whooshing sound followed by a deafening crack that echoed off of the beaches and shallows.  The jagged knife like blade at the end of the spear had pierced all the way through the knot on the tree.  Beyond the point, a good two feet of spear had also emerged behind it.  The tree looked like some sad, once-proud warrior who had finally met his doom.  Marshtomp hooted in delight and clapped his aqua blue arms. “That man right there won’t get back up,” the Prince of Slateport said, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips. 

            Sarah admitted to herself that she was impressed, but she couldn’t let this young man have the last laugh.  As Chris Marsh began to walk towards the tree to retrieve his spear, Princess Sarah drew her bow one last time. 

            Floom.  Prince Chris had his hand around the bottom of the spear as if to push it the rest of the way through the tree, but his eye was fixated at the arrow that extended the length of the spear by another foot and half.  Sarah was glad her aim had never been truer, she had struck the long pole right at the bottom. 

            She smiled as if to show the young Prince that he wasn’t the only one on the road between Mauville and Slateport with skill.  Unexpectedly, Chris smiled back.  Not so much a cocky grin, but one of admiration.  Strangely, Princess Sarah Spark of Mauville found herself liking the tanned Prince of Slateport a little more because of that smile.