Stallion Mage: A Horse Shifter Mpreg Romance (COMPLETE)

The Fight

In the cold light of morning, Alvarr emerged from the protection of the forest and realized what he had just done. For a stallion to stay out all night, away from the tribe, was unthinkable. A punishment, not something that people sought.

And for most, it would be a terrible fate, Alvarr thought, setting a swift pace back toward camp. But his magic held any threat at bay. "Mages," his mother, Mare-Mother Quirina, had told him, "are of the earth energy itself. No living things will ever harm a mage, for to do that is to harm themselves."

But the lead stallion could give out punishments that weren't harmful. Alvarr faltered, his legs struck by a weakness at the thought of how Laren would react.

He'll think I'm defying his authority.

Alvarr stopped, not having the heart to go on. Laren would be forced to punish him. Staying out overnight would be dangerous for any other stallion, who would not have the protection of magic. It would be too great of a reminder that Alvarr, small and runty, had power that they did not. And only Laren can master the night-fear like I can.

He would be at Laren's mercy, then. The mage trembled at the thought of what the lead stallion could do. Tethering or penning, the total loss of freedom. The small stallion wanted to bite himself at the thought of it. There would be no escape from those three.

Thane, Barron, and Nassor would bother him constantly when they could, and Alvarr would not be able to run.

But, a small voice inside the mage said, if Laren had not stopped the bullying in the first place, I wouldn't have been driven to it.

Alvarr resumed his journey toward the camp, still in his human form. It was best to be prepared for the worst: confrontation in front of the tribe, discipline, and increased torment. Those three couldn't harm him physically, both because Alvarr was a mage, and because it was forbidden.

While the tribe's eyes on him filled Alvarr with dread, maybe, if he got up his courage, it could be an opportunity. Maybe, when Laren confronted him, Alvarr could bring up what his bullies had been doing. And then I can truly find out if Laren has known all this time.

Alvarr shifted to four legs, made his way toward the camp. Soon, he could see the outlines of their dwellings, woven shelters with beds for both their horse-shapes and man-shapes, though most of the tribe slept on four legs.

"It takes more energy to keep to two legs," the mage-mother had told him. "But for us, it is easy, for we have magic." Mare-Mother Quirina had both the magic of earth and the magic that came with being the lead of the mares' tribe. Is it any wonder that I am so different? He snorted, half in amusement and half in disgust, as he noticed tall, lush grass growing in his wake, but he didn't have the heart to draw his power back in. Not yet.

As he neared the camp, a faint scream made every hair on his coat stand at attention. Then, the smell of distress in the air. Blood! Fighting the urge to spit and retch, he galloped toward the camp entrance.

One of the younger stallions, Cantil, came bursting out, eyes rolling with wild emotion.

"What is it?" Alvarr asked, skidding to a halt. The stink of blood didn't cling to his coat.

"Fight," Cantil panted. HIs sides heaved. "There's blood, and..." He dashed away into the grasslands, leaving an uneven trail.

But who is fighting? Alvarr entered the camp and smelled blood in the air. People were shouting and milling around in both four-legged and man-shapes.