Stallion Mage: A Horse Shifter Mpreg Romance (COMPLETE)

A Tribe's Decision (1/2)

Alvarr, Laren, and Fara were given a tent of their own so that the mage could recover in peace. They received many visitors over the next few days, most of whom the mage did not know. The mares' tribe was so much larger, and even though he had grown up in it, the other children had mostly left him alone during that time.

Now, though, they were coming in with bright, curious eyes, either looking for the foal, the stallion mage, or to ask Laren questions about the stallion tribe.

Sakol also visited often. My brother, Alvarr thought with pride. He had been right; Sakol was truly special. His young face and body belied his great wisdom and skill, though sometimes he acted like the colt he was. "Mother wouldn't let me help with the birth," he said, during one of his visits.

"I don't think you would have wanted to see it," Alvarr told him.

"Why?" Sakol snorteed. "It would have been so interesting, and I'll never get the chance again. Unless you have another foal." He leaned forward. "Do you think you'll have another?"

The mage stared at him. "I... never thought of that. I only assumed I would have the one." He put his hand on the sleeping Fara next to him, fuzzy and silver in her four-legged form, and remembered the dream he had once had about he and Laren talking about their grown weather-mage daughter.

Grown. She had been adult, or near enough, yet still remained in their tribe. Does this mean Laren and I will stay here? The land had not looked like where they were now, but the mares moved. He felt his own eyebrows draw together. "If I do have another," he said slowly, "I think that I will know about it many months in advance. Perhaps, even before I mate again."

Understanding passed over his brother's young face. "Ah. You have the gift of far-knowledge, like Mare-Mother." Then, he grinned. "What is mating like with another stallion? How did you know you were mates at all? And..."

Alvarr groaned, and steeled himself to answer Sakol's questions the best he could. I suppose this is what having a younger brother is like.

While Laren was out foraging with Fara, Alvarr decided to shift to four-legs for the first time since foaling. He stood outside his tent, letting the ever-present rain wash over his skin. The ground beneath his feet squished with cold, sodden mud. Can anyone ever get used to this? The mage was not sure he wanted to be wet all the time, but how would they teach their daughter than enough was enough?

Tribe-sisters and children, mostly on four-legs, roamed the grounds. This tribe would overrun our camp, if they came to live with the stallions, Alvarr realized. There is simply no room for us all.

But of course, he was not going to return, not with a daughter. He would miss the Elders and Barron, but perhaps his horn would show him the way again... No. That no longer exists. I am normal again. As normal as he ever was.

He saw Laren and Fara coming back, and trotted, carefully, to greet them. His middle was sore, but no more so than any other time he had been injured. Without Mare-Mother and her students, I would have died. Laren touched Alvarr's nose with his own in greeting, and Alvar touched his nose to Fara's.

On too-long legs, Fara stumbled between them, and Alvarr nudged her neck encouragingly. That was one thing he could do without worrying about his horn. "I know you are tired, and this mud isn't helping," he said to her, wondering if she understood. Then, he looked at his mate. "I wonder if they think it's strange," he murmured.

"If what is strange?" Laren asked, as they walked back to the tent.

"That you spend so much time with a foal."