Stallion Mage: A Horse Shifter Mpreg Romance (COMPLETE)

A Mage's Duty (18+)

Though he hardly saw Laren, Alvarr's constant sense of loneliness disappeared. It had been with him since he'd come to the stallions. Now, between his mate and his foal, it was gone.

But when one week passed, then two, without catching more than a glimpse of his mate, Alvarr felt restless and incomplete. He knew that Laren was now with him, but in spirit only. In body, the leader was still focused on getting the rest of the herd through the winter.

Alvarr did what he could, harvesting the grass by the stream and leaving it in his dwelling. In the meantime, the Elders were teaching him pieces of ancient knowledge. Elder Mastok had been showing him how the squiggles and symbols translated to words that he knew. Though it made his head swim with confusion, Alvarr still felt a tiny seed of excitement every time he sat down to study.

Alvarr now stood on the bank of the stream, which was still frozen. All around were the results of his and Barron's laborious harvesting - ragged, short grass as far as he could see. Snow had fallen on top of snow, burying the ground far beneath. The mage told the Elders that he worried about not being able to grow any more for the tribe.

But Elder Mastok had raised his white eyebrows. "Do not worry, young mage," he had said the previous day. "Meet me in the morning on the bank of the stream, when all the others have left, and I will show you something that may put your mind at ease."

The soft drag of a stallion churning through the snow made Alvarr look up. A gray and white stallion was making his way toward the mage; Elder Mastok. But in his mouth, he carried a bundle of something wrapped in white cloth. As the Elder got closer, Alvarr saw what it was: tiny splinters of sticks.

Why on earth is he bringing wood? We are in the middle of some trees.

As the Elder reached him, the old man dropped the bundle, which fell open. There were two rocks in the middle of the splintery sticks. Alvarr again had to wonder why he was bringing rocks, when they were standing on a rocky stream bed.

"Today, I am going to show you the secret of fire," Elder Mastok said, puffing a little from the walk.

The mage stepped back in alarm. He had no desire to know this particular secret.

"I see that you have your instinctive fear," the old stallion said. "This is good. You will remember to never leave it alone, otherwise its hungry nature will devour everything in its path."

Alvarr shook his mane. "Why are you showing me this today? Shouldn't I be older? Didn't you say that this is reserved only for Elders?"

The white-gray stallion chuckled, and started to dig into the snow with a hoof. "Help me clear a space on the river, right down to the ground. This will take two of us."

Confused, Alvarr obeyed until they had cleared a space about two stallion-lengths along the stream. He shifted to use his hands for the last few inches, and dug until he saw the frozen, short tops of the grass. They were brown now, no longer growing.

Elder Mastok shifted to two-legs and knelt down by the cloth full of shavings. "Young mage, your task is to collect a great armful of fallen sticks."

Alvarr shifted back to four-legs and went underneath a great tree with many fallen branches. As he went to his man-shape, he realized that the terrible discomfort when he shifted had passed. He took a deep breath of the cold air; the scent of snow and clouds cleared his mind.

And all around, he could feel the sleeping earth more deeply than ever, even though he was not standing on the bare ground. It is like my power has grown more sensitive somehow. He put his hand to his stomach, where there was still no noticeable change. Was it because of the foal?