Stallion Mage: A Horse Shifter Mpreg Romance (COMPLETE)

Confidence In Miracles

Distant shouts woke the mage. He struggled to sit up, but his body was weighed down with fatigue, probably from staying up well into the night with Laren.

Alvarr looked over next to him. Empty. Laren had already risen. Though daylight shone through the gaps in the weave of their dwelling, some of the anxiety still lingered. Those strange lights in the sky. Again, it reminded him all too much of those drawings, where Nature had clearly gone mad.

"Where is he?" a stallion trumpeted. "Bring him out!" Hoofbeats thudded away in the distinct rhythm of a canter.

Alvarr froze, heart picking up speed. Were they looking for him? He replayed the stallion's voice in his mind. That person hadn't sounded angry. The words had sounded... joyful, almost. But why? More puzzled than ever, the mage drew his knees up to his chest, noticing the fullness of his own abdomen. How long will it be, little foal, until the others start to notice? He hoped it would be another season.

A shadow crossed the entrance outside the door of his and Laren's dwelling, then the woven door swung open a crack.

"Who is there?" the mage said, tensing.

"Are you awake yet?" It was Laren, and he sounded remarkably relaxed.

Alvarr stood and went to his mate, who had stuck his equine head through the entrance. "I am," he said, laying his hand on Laren's soft nose.

"You should see... something," Laren said, backing away from the door. "Come out."

Alvarr went outside and shifted to four-legs. In the distance, half the tribe clustered at the edge of the woods. The mage didn't let himself get alarmed, since no one else seemed to be gripped by panic or fear. Still, it was unusual for the tribe to gather in the absence of their leader.

Alvarr stood still, straining his vision. More stallions passed him as he tried to figure out what was going on. That is the area where we mated. It couldn't be a coincidence. But what had they done?

A nose nudged his. "Come on," said the leader. Alvarr had no choice but to follow the strong gray body of his mate.

As Alvarr neared the crowd, he saw that most of them had their heads down.

He sniffed, and to his own disbelief, smelled the sweet green scent of fresh-cropped grass, carried in the still winter air.

Grazing! They are grazing! He broke into a trot, propelled by relief and amazement. The unthinkable had happened. Somehow, his magic had come through for him, and Nature had answered his wish for more grass to grow. For so many stallions to graze at once, there must be so much to eat, much more than the stream could provide.

A gray nose nudged his. "You did this, Alvarr," Laren murmured.

But the mage rejected that. I did nothing. This happened during the night. He shook his mane. "Not I," he said. "It is Nature's doing during the night. Nature wants us all to live."

"Then, why did it not happen before?" Laren's eyes were kind, but his words had strength behind them. "Nature is the force that rules us all, but you are the one who channels it."

Alvarr knew that the leader meant to commend him, but Laren's confidence made him uneasy. He was only one stallion, and the last thing he wanted was for the tribe to place all their faith and hope in him, as they had once rejected him for his magic. Both were wrong.

What if he should die during foaling? What then? Would the entire tribe fall apart? Would romeya invade the camp, or the rains never come, and everyone slowly starve?