Stallion Mage: A Horse Shifter Mpreg Romance (COMPLETE)

A Mage's Return

He smelled water.  The river.  The thorny plant had made him veer off his path, but he was still heading straight toward the river.

One thing Alvarr realized was what he didn't scent.  When he'd left, the disgusting smell of romeya had followed after him.  Now, it was gone, even when he opened his mouth to taste the air.

A lightness touched his heart.  If that poison flower was gone, maybe, as Elder Sevan claimed, it was just a bad year, and next year, the land would recover.

There was a slight burning pain on his leg.  He looked down and saw that a thorn had scratched his knee, drawing faint beads of blood.  The flowers grew in abundance, all facing the river, but they had changed.  Now, the flowers came in both dark and light.

Alvarr backed away and shifted to two-legs to see the color better.  The vines are predators!  The thorny blackwood had not grown two shades of blossoms; it had grown right over the romeya to consume it.  He stared at it for a long minute, imagining he could actually see the thorns slowly drive into the hearts of the romeya flowers.

That's why they are growing in this direction.  The brambles disappeared into the trees.  Predators rarely had one kind of prey; what else did they consume?  Alvarr supposed he'd find out.

He walked into the forest.  To his relief, the blood flowers thinned out as soon as they reached the shade of the trees.  They need sunlight like any other flower.  He remembered touching the predator he had slain with his horn to honor it, and the flower growing, but the mage didn't believe that the flowers were good, just because they were born of magic.

Nature was not good, nor was it bad.  It just sought balance.  Were the blood flowers the balance to the rampant romeya?

Despite his eagerness to get home, Alvarr found himself slowing as he walked toward the river, dragging his package.  It was dirty, and the vine was worn where his jaws clamped it, but the contents seemed untouched. 

He was afraid to check.  What if he had come all this way, only to find that everything had been destroyed?  What if all the things were fine, but no one believed him?  Some stallions won't want to change the way they live. 

And what if Alvarr wouldn't be welcomed back?  What if Laren scolded or shunned him, or worse - cast him out of the tribe to live on his own? 

It doesn't matter, what happens to me.  He served Nature.  His purpose was to restore the balance that had been disturbed by the rift.  After all, he was to convince the stallions that they needed true mates, but since Alvarr was a mage, he was not likely to have one.

He stopped and listened to the rushing of the water and the wind in the leaves, trying to control the sudden sadness that came over him.  You knew this already, he told himself.  But in the privacy away from the tribe, he let himself dream.

After a day of gathering herbs and seeing to the harvest, Alvarr entered his dwelling, which was made of a straight-sided wooden frame and living vine walls.  On the man-sized pallet, his mate lay, asleep from a full day's work.  He was turned away from Alvarr, and the moonlight touched his strong shoulders and back.

Though the mage was quiet, his mate stirred and sat up.  "Just coming back?"

Alvarr admired his handsome mate, though he had seen him many times, of course.  He hurried toward the pallet with its promise of sleep, and lay on its soft surface. 

His mate's arms came around him and rolled Alvarr over until the mage rested on his chest.  "Was it very bad?"

Alvarr shook his head, long hair tangling on his mate's shoulder.  "The birthing was hard, but Elora is strong and will be fine."