CHRIS

            He could smell his prey, and taste its fear.  The rocks couldn’t save the juicy Numel, he would find it cornered soon enough.  He was hungry, it had been three days since he had eaten… and he was tired of man-flesh.  Yet there was no vegetation on the hot black rock; he had to eat what he could. 

            The men who hunted him tasted bland, there was not enough meat on them, and they were more trouble than they were worth.  Their pointy sticks and long shiny claws of steel bit into him.  He hated the shiny claws. However, he overcame each one of them eventually, and he had already gnawed them all to the bone.  He was thin and his muscles had disappeared now, but his hunger made him swift and strong. 

            He crawled along the black rocks, sniffing at the air again.  It was close.  Behind the next rock.  There was no way the Numel could outrun him.  He silently stalked up the rock, and his prize bolted, or it tried to anyway.  In an instant, he shot a blast of water at the terrified little Pokémon.  The air was dry up here, and his blasts weren’t as powerful or as full as he would like, but it was enough.  The poor creature was drenched, and it was having a hard time moving, the aim was true.  

            As he crawled on all fours with his belly close to the ground, his prey whimpered and cried out for help.  Help from its herd, or its family.  I had a family once, he remembered.  But the thoughts disappeared from his head.  His huge shadow was cast over the little Numel.  Its eyes were panicking.  It tried to get back on his feet when he slammed his long blue arm on its shoulder. 

            His mouth was slobbering with lust, and the Numel cried out one last time…

            Chris Marsh woke with a start, drenched in sweat.  He looked down at his arm, expecting to see blue, but it was only in a cast again.  He remembered where he was.

            Solomon Forrest, Prince of Fortree, had ransomed him and his uncle’s two guards.  He was safe somewhere in the great woods that covered the Central Highlands.  But am I a prisoner?  Is Hector Safe? And Sarah… A thousands questions swirled through his head at once. 

            Noticing that he was awake, one of the green-clothed guards who must have been watching him went out of the small wooden room that he was being kept in. 

            The King of Slateport sat in silence staring at his hurt arm.  Apollo was right, he thought.  It hadn’t healed all the way yet.  The way those Mirage Desert scouts had treated him, his arm was likely worse.  It was stiff from rest now, and it hurt to move it.  At least the bone is mended.

            It was half an hour, or an hour, or two hours later when two green clad guards had entered again.  Following them into the room was Solomon Forrest: short, muscular, in his late twenties or early thirties, with almond-shaped eyes and black hair knotted in a bun behind his head.  His Sceptile with uncaring eyes followed close behind. 

            “Good evening, King Chris Marsh,” he said. 

            Evening? “How long have I slept?” he asked his savior, or captor.   

            “You’ve been out for a day and a half,” he said.  “The dreaming potion let us treat your arm better.  My sister, Susan, has already been in to change the wrappings and stretch your arm twice.  The bone is mended, but it’s the stiffness and swelling that you’re feeling now.”

            Chris raised his arm on his own.  How could he not have felt anyone do this to him while he slept?  The slight pain in his muscles was enough to make him cringe.  “How long will I need this cast?” The wrappings were woven leaves, hard yet conformed perfectly to his arm.  The constant constriction made resting his arm feel a little better, however. 

            “Three weeks, Susan says.”  Solomon grabbed a chair from a table and Sceptile lied down on the floor where a ray of sun warmed its back.  “I’ve never known one as skilled in the medicines as my sister.  Susan suggested that you be awake during the wrapping changing, but I needed you to drink the dreaming potion. What did you see while you slept?”

            Chris could feel his eyes widen in confusion.  Prince Solomon Forrest of Foretree had ransomed him, because he was curious about his dreams? He supposed it was better than being bound in the back of a wagon in the middle of a desert.  Poor Hector…

            “I dreamt I was Swampert.  I was hunting,” Chris admitted finally. 

            Solomon leaned back in his chair, exhaled, and nodded.  “It is common for a human to dream of his Spirit Partner if the bond is strong enough.”

            Some dream it was.  “I could feel everything.  Smell things I have never smelt before,” he didn’t know why he was opening up to Solomon.  Yet somehow Chris knew that he could trust him.  Sorry men, the Prince of Fortree had said when he couldn’t buy all the men in Chris’s rescue party. 

            “It is as I hoped was true,” the corner of Solomon’s mouth began to move upwards into a smile.  “There were rumors that Swampert had escaped Starfall’s clutches… And now I see that it’s true.” 

            “You mean, that was Swampert?” he asked.  The dream had been so vivid… So much so that he had remembered the taste of human.  “My mission!” he recalled.  “It will be easier to bring him home without anyone having to break him free!”

            “Be cautious, my friend,” Solomon put his hand on Chris’s shoulder.  “We must be cautious.  Swampert will come home with you, but not yet.  You must be patient.  There are things in motion even now, working in secret.  You’re not quite fit enough to do any good on any rescue mission at the moment.” Solomon paused searching Chris’s eyes for something else.  “Was there anything else that you dreamt about?  A maze? A tunnel? Perhaps,” his voice softened, “a giant?”

            “No,” the King of Slateport answered, trying hard to search his memory.  “There was nothing else.” Chris didn’t want to wait.  He was not patient, but he reluctantly lied back in his bed silently.  I might as well be his prisoner.  He won’t let me leave. Well, if he wants information from my dreams, I might need some from him. “Where are we?”

            “You’re in an inn in one of my father’s territories,” Solomon answered.  “Ah, where are my manners.  In my haste for information, I neglected my courtesies.  Samson,” one of the guards at the door saluted, “bring my sisters in.  I won’t have it said we don’t honor our guests.”

            Moments later, a girl of around thirteen walked in followed by an adolescent Absol.  The girl had tan skin like her brother, yet her eyes were a beautiful hazel color.  She had slender arms yet toned, as if she had been climbing trees her whole life.  She wore the same dark green traveler’s gear as her brother.

            “This is my youngest sister, Caitlyn Forrest,” Solomon smiled.  “Her Spirit Pokémon is Absol, like my mother.  The Forrest children have always seemed to be able to choose their Spirit Pokémon between their parents’ noble lines.” 

            “Hi,” was all Caitlyn said with a look that said “I don’t know why I’m here.”  The young Absol walked up inquisitively and sniffed at Chris’s good arm before giving his hands a few licks.

            Chris nodded his head politely as he began to scratch behind the white Pokémon’s long black horn.  He smiled as he remembered the old wives tale about how Absol bring bad luck. “It’s pleasure to meet you, my lady,” he said, not forgetting the courtesies his father had taught him when meeting another noble man or woman.  “I am Chris Marsh.”

            The girl’s eyes grew wide in astonishment, she must have recognized the name.  “You’re the Prince of Slateport!” she said, mouth agape and pointing at Chris.

            “He is the King of Slateport now, you rude little girl,” Solomon said as he smiled and Sceptile got on its feel to tickle Caitlyn with its leafy arms. “I’m sorry, Marsh, Caitlyn has always been a little difficult.”

            Chris smiled as Caitlyn giggled in Sceptile’s arms.  Absol sat patiently wagging its tail happily.  Lily might have looked like her, he thought sadly.  Though Caitlyn’s skin is just a shade darker. The young girl’s laughter soothed Chris’s heart.

            “What is all this noise?” came a new voice from the door.  Caitlyn stopped laughing, and Chris couldn’t help but stare at the woman entering the room with a Grovyle.  She had a slender, gentle body, and her hair fell in perfect thick black locks to her shoulders.  She wore a green dress that fit her shape splendidly.  It was her eyes and lips that caught Chris’s attention, though.  The corners of her mouth seemed to curl into a soft smile, even when she didn’t, and her eyes were a mystery that seemed to pierce through his very soul.  Chris judged she was about the same age as him, maybe a tad older. Even her Spirit Pokémon, Grovyle, had an air of grace about it.

            “My lady,” he said as he remembered to stop staring and bowed his head quickly.  This must be the other sister. 

            “King Chris,” she returned the bow and they locked eyes.

           Solomon broke the silence. “My friend, this is my other sister, Susan Forrest,” he said.  “You have her to thank for the fresh cast and her healing medicines.”

            “Yes, thank you,” he said politely.  There was one more thing that was confusing, though.  “What are all the royal Forrest children doing at an inn on a road in the Central Highlands?”

            Solomon stood up and sighed.  “We are on our way to Mt. Pyre,” he said.  “Luckily, I was close enough to the Mirage Desert to see what was so important about the captives Randall Sand said he had for us.”

            “Luckily, indeed,” Chris said slowly, trying to avoid eye contact with Susan Forrest.  For them, or for me?

            Solomon went on.  “We’re going to a wedding. It is an honor, though, that the King of Slateport will be able to be in attendance.”

            I need to find Swampert or I am no king, he thought.  How would the host be honored by a King with no Spirit Pokémon at a wedding?  Thinking about weddings made him think about Sarah Spark again.  He had almost forgotten about her.  “I’m honored to be invited, if this could be called an invitation,” Chris Marsh chuckled as he held out his casted arm.  “Who’s getting married?”

            “My sister!” Caitlyn chided as she pointed at Susan.  The latter Princess hung her head in embarrassment.  “Chief Specter is twice her age but father says he has to take turns keeping the Chiefs happy.  He married my mother last time, so it’s the Mt. Pyre territory’s turn.”

            “Caitlyn, you talk too much,” sighed Solomon.  “Yes, Susan is doing her duty to the Kingdom to marry.  And some day, you will too.” Young Caitlyn crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at that. 

            “Yes, we all must do our duty,” Chris said.  I will marry Sarah Spark, and Susan will wed the Chief of Mt. Pyre.  Duty had never made Chris feel so sad before.