Stallion Mage: A Horse Shifter Mpreg Romance (COMPLETE)

The Leader and The Outcast

Alvarr spent some time in his own tent, not ready to face any of the tribe after that morning's violence. All around him, he heard horse-shapes and man-shapes moving quietly, their voiced subdued after the fight.

The mage meditated in the hopes that it would keep his power calm. It was worrying how much magic leaked out of him even after a night in the forest. Perhaps going to an Elder would help, but Alvarr really needed to speak to another mage, which meant a forbidden visit to the mares.

A voice called from outside his dwelling of living wood. "I want to talk to you." The speaker was quiet, but far from friendly.

Alvarr opened his eyes and rose from the ground. Pushing his hair back, he opened his green woven door to Cantril, the nervous stallion that had run away from the fight scene, now in his wiry, tallish man-shape.

"Come in," Alvarr said, gesturing the man into his human room.

"Laren sent me to tell you," Cantril said, his eyes narrow as he looked over the small mage. He sat down on a low woven bench. "Thane, Nassor, and Barron have been disciplined," he said. "Barron's wounds have been treated by Elder Pasor."

"That's... good," the mage said, sitting across from Cantril. Alvarr did not want anyone harmed. He was also relieved that he was not called on to treat Barron.

"Laren put his..." Cantril looked away for a moment. "His power on them. They have been separated for three days and not to talk to one another. He said to tell you especially not to go near them."

"I have no desire to do that," Alvarr said, gripping the edge of his seat. "We have never been friends."

Silence fell between them. The mage knew what the other man was thinking: Alvarr had no friends. Close in age, Cantril and Barron could have become his companions, but they shunned him, just like everyone else.

Though Alvarr knew the answer, he wanted to hear Cantril say it. "Tell me the truth. Are you afraid of me?"

The other man froze like a rabbit in the field, as though he were pinned by the gaze of a predator. "Yes." He glanced toward the door in the obvious desire to bolt.

"But why?" The question pushed out of Alvarr in a rush. "I am forbidden to hurt anyone. I've only used my power for the good of the tribe."

Cantril's feet curled into the earthen floor. "Y-you can move the earth with a thought," the nervous man said. "You can call down a storm. It's unnatural."

Alvarr couldn't help but snort at the ridiculous statement. "Magic is a part of us all. It is life itself, like leaves growing on trees, or the rains in the summer. Every time you eat grass, you eat magic. Can't you feel it?"

"You are different," Cantril stressed, his eyes wide. "We all feel it."

The mage sighed. Maybe it's like the night-fear, and no one can help it. At least another person was talking to him without feeling the need to bully him, like those three, or control him, like Laren.

"Cantril," he said. "You said that Laren patrolled in the night because of me. That doesn't make any sense. Laren is a good leader. He always acts for the good of the whole tribe, not one person."

The other stallion laughed, but the sound was dry and scraping. "You think he's a good leader? Is that what you think of him?"

"Well... yes." Even though he doesn't think much of me. "I respect and want to obey him. Don't you?"

Cantril scrubbed his hand over his face. "You don't feel it, do you? It must be because you're special," he spat. He waved a long, slim hand. "Parading around in your man-shape, leaving the ground at night. It's no wonder."

"I have to leave sometimes. A mage's power needs exercise, or it becomes unpredictable, and we'll all have dwellings made of fruited vines, or a river will cut through the common area! Laren knows I go to the forest, and..."

"The season has no hold over you, does it?" Cantril asked. "Perhaps you are not yet mature."

Not this, please. "I'm not a child," Alvarr said. "Yes, I'm small, but I spent at least one extra year with the mares before crossing over."

"Then you really don't feel it," Cantril said. "The mares never would have let you stay, otherwise." His brown eyes looked at Alvarr as though seeing him for the first time. "Haven't you noticed that every stallion is on edge during this time? It's why the fight broke out."

"Barron eats romeya," Alvarr offered. It felt like a betrayal to say it, but everyone knew. "Maybe that had something to do with it."

"Perhaps," Laren said from the open doorway, blocking the whole entrance in his large man-shape. "But more likely, it is the Time of Breeding approaching."

The mage shrugged. "That is only natural."

Laren's dark eyes seemed to pierce through him. "Your blood is not stirred with restlessness?"

"Already?" the mage asked. "No, but I expect it will once I go out on the Breeding Field."

The leader looked perplexed. "Even I am affected, as are all in our tribe but the Elders. I expect it is the same for the mares' tribe. We all hear the mating call. That is how we know it is almost time." Laren closed his eyes and gestured to his manhood. "Watch."

The large stallion leader took several deep breaths. Alvarr watched his organ thicken and and swell. "The thought of mounting a mare excites me," Laren said. "It does not do the same for you?"

Alvarr imagined himself approaching a smaller mare and driving his manhood inside her, expelling his seed. He reached for any feeling, but it was no use. He did not find the urge that drove the others. Perhaps I have no imagination. Just another way I'm different.

Folding his arms across his muscular human chest, Laren continued. "If you do not feel it, you'd best steer clear."

The mage shrank back in his seat. Though he had done nothing wrong, he felt like a foal being scolded by his mother. "You can't mean-"

"Do not ride into the plains tomorrow night. Stay behind."

"But I will not sire any foals," Alvarr protested.

"No, you won't," Laren said quietly, and sighed. "If I hadn't promised Quirina I would take you in..."

Even Cantril looked shocked at that statement, and stood up. "You can't mean that, Laren."

The leader shook himself all over. "I must go." He backed out of the dwelling, shifted to four legs, and cantered away.

Cantril stared at the mage in shock.

"Now you can see," Alvarr said, a little bitterly. "It's always like this. I suppose I should be grateful to have a home and place within the tribe."

"Alvarr," he began.

The mage turned away, wanting to be alone. "I will join the Elders tomorrow night."