Stallion Mage: A Horse Shifter Mpreg Romance (COMPLETE)

United

Alvarr had expected the tribe to be overwhelmed by a wave of thundering stallions combined with the returning party of mares and older children. But the reality was far different.

Mare-Mother Quirina had taken two other strong mares aside. Alvarr had seen her tie bundles of white cloths and long, straight branches from the small stand of trees onto their backs. The mage had hovered on the edges, eager to help, but not knowing what else he could do.

His mother had been calm and decisive. She did not speak to him at all, but kept her focus on the two mares, both healers, and gave them short, tense instructions that Alvarr could not hear.

And then, the two mares cantered off in the direction of the stallions with their burdens. What was that about? Alvarr had wondered.

Now, he waited with Laren and Fara underneath the trees, which showed a light covering of new leaves on their bare branches. This, at least, gave him heart. The season was changing without him or his magic to force growth. If nothing else, there will be food for us all.

Laren took a few anxious mouthfuls of grass. Alvarr shifted to two-legs, then back again. It had been raining since they had word that the stallions were coming; Fara had caught the worried mood of the tribe and expressed it the only way she could.

Alvarr looked at his small gray daughter, eating shreds of grass, then weaving in and out of the tree trunks. She doesn't know what came before her. This is the only life she has ever experienced.

And now that was about to change.

The mage looked at a patch of earth that bore new shoots of green; it was part of the ribbon of grass his magic had created. When the stallions arrived, their tribe would be larger than ever. He imagined all of them traveling over barren ground, Fara's rain wetting the earth.

And then, his imagination created the vision of a home he'd never seen, with dwellings as large as ancient trees, and many, many two-legs draped in cloth, the colors of which he'd never seen before. And from some of those dwellings rose thin columns of smoke, but no one was afraid. None of the people in his vision even seemed to notice.

It all made him dizzy and sick, as though he was seeing something that he should not. Something that his mind could not process. He gave his head a violent shake to reject the image.

"What's wrong?" Laren put his hand on Alvarr's neck.

"I... nothing," he said. Alvarr knew that his mate was not convinced. But how could he possibly describe what he saw? It was not anything he had the words for.

He shivered again.

"Alvarr?"

I have to say something. "I'm nervous," the mage said, which was true. "But I know it will do no good." Life was happening, and he could do nothing to stop it, even if he had the desire.

"I, as well," Laren said. He rubbed Alvarr's mane with a strong human hand, and leaned against the mage's side. "So much has happened in only four seasons. I am... grateful."

Then, they both heard it. Voices, carried on the wind, of both stallions and mares, some tired and weak. Alvarr wanted to run to them, but also to stay where he was. Fara stood alert, her ears pointing forward.

Laren shifted to four-legs and touched noses with Alvarr. "I'll go," he said. "You go back to the tribe, where it's safe, and tell them to prepare."

Yes. This, I can do.

Alvarr called their daughter, and they cantered back to the traveling mares. "Reha, Harta," he called to his friends. "They're coming. The... the stallions. We need to make camp. I heard them, they sound weak."