Stallion Mage: A Horse Shifter Mpreg Romance (COMPLETE)

The Mystery of the Mountain

Unsettled, Alvarr exited the healing tent, still in his man-shape.  What did the Elder mean by a secret?  The mage's growing power?  And had the Elder bowed because of Alvarr's mother, the great mage leader Quirina?

He passed several other stallions walking in a group, tails swishing.  They muttered once they were behind him, and Alvarr was grateful he was still two-legged so he could not hear what they said. 

Then, a pain stabbed him in the center of his forehead, so intense Alvarr thought he was going to be sick.  Clenching his fists, he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed until the worst of it had passed. 

Cautiously, he brought his fingers up to his brow and pressed.  No pain, not even a bruise, but perhaps he had used too much power. 

The mage's suspicion grew stronger when a fit of dizziness came over him.  He shifted to four legs and stumbled the rest of the way home.  Though it was daylight, he collapsed on his side in the equine-sized bed and fell into a deep sleep. 

He was roused by a hoof stamping the earth outside his door.  Alvarr got to his hooves and left his dwelling.  Cantril stood there.

"What is it?" the mage asked, hoping it wasn't that Barron had taken a turn for the worse.

"Where have you been?" the other stallion muttered.

"Sleeping."  Alvarr noticed the sun's passage.  It was early afternoon.

"All this time?"  Cantril stamped again.  "I came by earlier, but you weren't in there."

"I was," the mage protested.  "I gave power to Elder Mastok in the healing tent, and then..."  He had slept deeply for hours.  I did use too much power.  The thought reassured him.  I do have limits.

Cantril pranced in place, nervous.  "Aren't you coming to the meeting?" 

"I haven't heard of any meeting, but no one tells me anything."

The other stallion looked at Alvarr oddly.  "No one needs to- can you not feel it?  The urge?"

This again.  It was as though everyone else knew some secret language that he was never taught.  Alvarr shook his mane.  "I do not feel it, no," he said quietly.  Unable to bear Cantril's disbelieving, pitying look, he added, "I expended too much energy today in the healing hut.  If Laren looks for me, tell him I sought an herb in the field."

Without waiting for a response, the mage shot past Cantril and didn't stop running until he was once again galloping through the tall, empty grasses outside the stallion's territory.

The ache in his forehead came back, and he stumbled to a halt, sides heaving.  The wind of the plains blew over his coat, cooling the sweat.  Alvarr could hear nothing but the rustle of the grasses moving.

This life is lonely. 

He didn't know how anyone could stand it.  Perhaps if the tribe didn't avoid him, Alvarr wouldn't feel this way, but he doubted it.  Were they all satisfied with the companionship of the herd?  Didn't anyone want a closer bond? 

Perhaps that's why those three stuck so close together.

The stallion mage pulled off a few mouthfuls of grass and suddenly realized how hungry he was, and how sweet the early fall grasses tasted.  Alvarr bent his head to the ground, and for a long while, all he did was eat to sustain his larger form. 

As he did, his headache vanished.  Maybe this is what happens when I use too much magic.   Again, Alvarr was comforted by the thought that he could use too much.  With the way his power had grown over the last season, he had been starting to fear it.