Stallion Mage: A Horse Shifter Mpreg Romance (COMPLETE)

Nature's Faith

It is like time itself has frozen, Alvarr thought as he rose from his and Laren's dwelling. It had been some days since he had moved in, and still, it did not quite feel like home.

Shaking his waist-length hair behind him, he opened the door. Or tried. Snow had fallen between the time Laren left with the herd and the mage had risen.

When he finally got outside, the mage marvelled at the absolute silence of the camp. It was always this way after a snow, and at first, Alvarr had found it peaceful. Now, he found it worrying. Snow on snow, and underneath it, ice. He had lost track of the days since his return from his journey.

Surely it could not remain winter forever, but at times like this, when the sun didn't seem to move in the gray sky, it was hard to imagine anything else. The cold had stripped away a little more flesh from most of the tribe, and everyone was remaining in their dwellings more and more to conserve energy. Outside the leader's dwelling, the mage sent his energy into the earth and asked Nature a small question.

There was no response. Shifting to four-legs, Alvarr made his way to the Elders' tent, wading through the snow. He, Elder Sevan, and Elder Mastok had been studying the flat leaves, working out their meaning. Progress had come, but the mage always worried that they were far off from any answers. Were they only guessing out of a desperate desire for some kind of guidance? There was no way to tell.

Alvarr shook his mane. Thinking like that is of no use. First, he would study with the Elders in the tent. Later, he would take grass to Elder Pastor, perhaps with Barron for company and safety. Perhaps he would try to find another area receptive to his magic. It is things like this that keep me going, one day at a time.

"Elder Mastok?" he called, shifting to man-shape and ducking into the dim, huge area beneath the tent ceiling. He smelled smoke, and the inside was warm. Alvarr found the white-haired old man beside a burnt-out fire, studying a drawing of a large-bellied mare.

The mare reared on her hind legs. Behind her were a series of symbols that did not make any sense to Alvarr. There was a sun and a moon, and it was raining and sunny, and what looked like a lightning bolt was streaking toward the ground. The mare did not look disturbed, though perhaps that was because the skill of the ancient artist had not been equal to the task.

The mage's hand went to his stomach. Despite the mare's lack of care, the image did not give him a good feeling. If that mare was with foal, which was probable, what kind of life would greet that child?

"Did this actually happen?" Alvarr asked.

"It may be a story," Elder Mastok said, tapping the page with a careful finger. "There is more."

He pushed the thin, flat leaf aside, revealing the next one. There, the mare stood, now accompanied by a foal with black feet. But chaos still surrounded them. What looked like flames and smoke had spread from the lightning strike, and in the distance, dark smudges of vaguely equine shapes lay on the ground. Dead? Hurt?

Tears came to Alvarr's eyes. He blinked and willed them away before Elder Mastok noticed. It was only a drawing on a page, but it realized all his fears of bearing a foal into a world gone very wrong.

"Is there another?" he asked, keeping his voice very low so the old man wouldn't hear the tremble.

In response, Elder Mastok showed next image. Alvarr gasped. The mare was not shown, but the black-footed foal, now grown, had a horn. "This is the second instance of a horned stallion that I've found," the Elder said. "But...". He showed the next drawing.

The black-footed stallion stood among trees, giant plants, and other growing things, impossibly large. But at his feet played a small child. Why is the child in two-legged form? Whose child is it? And why does the stallion no longer have a horn?