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?
Whatever it was, he hoped that he would be able to grow grass for the tribe. That's all I ask, for me, my foal, my mate, and my tribe-brothers to be healthy.
The thought somehow settled his worries, as though Nature had heard him. Alvarr bent over and began to collect the smaller fallen branches. When he had so many sticks that he could hardly see over the top of them, he made his way back along the path that his equine self had made. "Is this enough?" he asked, dropping them in the snow.
Elder Mastok had laid two small mounds of wood splinters next to each other. "Choose the smallest, oldest sticks and bring some to me," the old man instructed.
When Alvarr did, and knelt next to one of the mounds, Elder Mastok started laying the sticks in a particular way. "You do the same, young mage."
Elder Mastok inspected Alvarr's attempt. "That will do. You'll see why in a moment, but first, bring some of the thicker sticks over. We will need those as well."
After Alvarr brought larger sticks and arranged them to Elder Mastok's satisfaction, the old man brought out the two stones. "These are not ordinary stones. They are fire-stones," he said, and knocked them together.
A bright shower of sparks erupted from them, landing on the snow.
"It's like lightning!" Alvarr said, shuffling away.
"It won't hurt you." The Elder held the rocks over his cone of sticks and knocked them together again. This time, sparks landed on the splintered wood and sent up a tiny curl of smoke. "But you can see that one of these sparks has the potential to catch fire, if given the right conditions."
"So that's how you do it," Alvarr breathed, both intrigued and frightened. "Like lightning in the woods."
"It's the easiest way. There are others, but using fire-stones is faster, and easier on these old hands." The Elder made more sparks, then blew gently on the splinters, making them smoke more. Alvarr saw an orange glow creep over them, and a small flame.
Elder Mastok held the rocks to him. "It's your turn," he said.
Nervous, Alvarr took the rocks and made the same motions. It was not as easy as the Elder had made it look, but he, too, had a small fire, burning first the splinters, then the small sticks, and the large sticks on the outside.
"The fire will not spread. We are safe, surrounded by snow," Elder Mastok reassured him. "When the wind blows, move so that the smoke does not move into your face. It is not good to breathe," he added unnecessarily.
The mage watched the two small fires burn. As the fire consumed more of the wood, they had to stand farther away. Though alarm would not let him relax, he also got a sense of immense power.
Entire dwellings could be destroyed like this in a few heartbeats. Their entire camp could be swept away by flames, if they walked away from one of these fires closer to camp. Alvarr shuddered. It was good that this knowledge wasn't made available to everyone. He was not sure if he would ever build a fire alone.
"Look, young mage." Elder Mastok touched his arm, then pointed at the ground.
The snow had melted, leaving broken stalks of grass, mud, and stones. And it was also melting the snow that they had not cleared, the edges of the snow softening into water, running into the ground.
"Do you think, if we cleared more of the ground, that you would be able to grow grass there?"
Alvarr frowned and reached into the ground below the fire with his power. What he found there reassured him; for the first time, he got a sense of ancient cycles, of fire and rebirth. "Grass will grow. Whether I can do it, I cannot tell you yet."
But even as he said that, Alvarr knew that he would be able to help the grass grow. Though it was not anywhere close to spring and the earth should be sleeping, it seemed to want to aid him.
Though it took well into the afternoon, the two of them cleared much of the snow from the stream bed. As the sun was beginning its descent, they knew that the rest of the herd would return. Alvarr stood on the stream bed and closed his eyes. All around him, the winter air stirred, and he heard the small clicks of the branches far above his heads, the dying crackles of their last small fire, even a bird high above his head. And then, there were tremors, very small tremors, under the earth.
What is that? He got a vision of Laren leading the exhausted herd back from finding food. The leader twisted his head to speak sharply to a sand-colored stallion who had started to veer away from them. Though Alvarr could not hear his mate's voice, he could sense the compulsion he put on the stallion. Then, another started to wander.
"They're coming," he murmured. He imagined how they would feel to have a thick, green crop of grass waiting for them when they returned, especially since they must be running out of winter forage. The exhaustion in their eyes would turn to relief, and then they would let themselves graze.
When he opened his eyes, he was not that surprised to see grass, as high as his waist, waving in the cold breeze. He shook back his hair, which had grown past his shoulders, and nodded to Elder Mastok. "We may as well eat first," he said. "After all, we did all the work."
Shifting to four-legs, the two ate their fill, and to Alvarr's delight, he could see the bitten-off grass growing longer. When he watched, it looked still, but every time he checked on it, the stems had grown. Maybe this will last longer than the previous attempt.
"It is peaceful here," Alvarr said, looking deeper into the trees.
"Do you feel the land's taint?" the Elder asked.
The mage focused. "The taint is still there, but I am used to it, I suppose."
"And... the foal?"
Alvarr looked at Elder Mastok. "How should I know? It's not like any of us know about foals, except for maybe Elder Pastor." He remembered the fight with Nassor and Thane. "When Elder Pastor healed me, at the end, I felt something. In my stomach."
"A good something?"
"I don't think it was bad," Alvarr replied, watching the green tops of the grass wave amidst the snow. "But it was like a burst of magic gathered in my stomach. Do you think that..."
"Your foal will be a mage?" asked the Elder, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with Alvarr. "I cannot give you any knowledge on this. However, given that your mother is leader and healer, I would say it's likely that your foal will be able to channel Nature's power in some way. Even Nature's Order," he added.
The dark mass of the herd was just visible against the sky. As Alvarr watched them, he realized what Elder Mastok had just said. My foal could be leader someday.
The herd approached, with Laren at the head. When they saw the green, some of the equines broke into a tired trot, and Alvarr heard them murmuring to each other. Their voices were not triumphant and clear they way they had been when Alvarr had first joined the stallions. Instead, the mage could hear the fatigue and hunger. It's wearing them down.
Laren walked slowly toward his mate. The expression in his dark eyes was soft and wondering. He, at least, had not fallen into despair. It was only the once that Alvarr had seen a glimpse of the leader's deep worry.
"You two have worked miracles," Laren said.
With joy, Alvarr saw that most of them had already started to graze. "They are not afraid," he said, realizing that he had half-expected the stallions to shun his gift.
"Not anymore." The leader briefly leaned his side against the mage's. "It is getting harder and harder to find forage. No one can afford to let fear rule them."
"We will keep doing what we can," Alvarr said. "I only hope that I can continue to help in this way."
He turned his face away and pawed at the ground with a hoof. He sounded so stiff. What he wanted to say was how he would support Laren through any hardship, no matter how long the winter. He wanted to share Laren's worries and burdens. But though they had accepted each other as mates, things were just the same as before.
No, they were worse. Alvarr missed being alone with Laren when the grass and leaves were still green. It felt like so long ago. Now, it was easy to believe that winter would never end. He wanted Laren to cover him again, the mage admitted to himself. He wanted to feel the glorious heat of mating, to have Laren spill his seed inside him, and to spill his own upon the earth.
Does Laren feel the same? If he did, the leader did not show it; he treated Alvarr as he always had, except with a few more public words of support.
He fought off Thane and Nassor for me, the mage reminded himself. But Alvarr couldn't help but want something more.
That night, after harvesting grass for the Elders, the mage retreated to his dwelling. Sleep was slow to come. His dwelling seemed unreasonably warm, and even when he closed his eyes, he hummed with energy.
It doesn't make any sense, he thought. Wasn't he with foal? Didn't he need to rest? Go to sleep, he thought at the tiny life growing inside him, and resolutely pinched his eyelids shut.
When he opened them again, he found himself standing barefoot in the snow outside Laren's dwelling. He wanted to stamp with frustration. Was this restlessness part of foal-bearing?
"Can't sleep?" his mate asked. From the sound of his voice, he, too, was wide awake.
Alvarr went inside. His mate sat up, white cloth sliding from his body. "Alvarr, what is it?" Laren extended his hand.
"I don't know," Alvarr said, taking his mate's large, strong hand with his. Laren gave a tug and pulled him down next to him, encouraging him to lie down.
The leader folded his warm limbs around the mage's body. "You're tense," he said, running his hand over Alvarr's shoulder and arm.
"I think I'm just worried," Alvarr whispered, facing away from his mate. He felt his body relax into Laren's warmth at his back, and the soft bedding supporting his body, but he was still far from sleep. "This winter feels like it will never end."
"Yes," Laren said, his voice serious. "If we make it through this season without losing a single stallion, it will be a miracle." He buried his head in Alvarr's shoulder-length hair, sniffing. "Why does your hair smell like fire?"
Alvarr told his mate about how he and Elder Mastok had figured out how to clear the ground by the stream. As he spoke, his mate's hands smoothed over his back, gently massaging his tight muscles. "Elder Mastok may be old, but his mind gallops far ahead of any of us," Alvarr said.
"Yes," said Laren. "It is good that you are studying with the Elders. What knowledge we have, we cannot lose. It must be passed on."
The leader's hand smoothed around to Alvarr's waist and ran up and down his chest. "At least you are in good health," he said. "I do not understand why, but you look like you're in the midst of late spring. And I do not see you eating the grass you provide for us."
In the dark, Alvarr's eyes opened wide. Should I tell him about the foal? Because that had to be the reason; Nature was sustaining him, even while the rest of the tribe went hungry.
The moment felt right. He drew a breath to speak his secret, when Laren shifted behind him, and something hot and hard pressed against his lower back. And then it was gone, as Laren retreated.
"Sorry," the leader murmured. "I don't know why..."
Alvarr grinned, an expression that had not crossed his face for so many days. So, he wasn't the only one who had felt the longing. It's because we are mates. He flipped over to face Laren.
"There is so much we don't know," the mage said, "but I do know that we are mean to be together. We are mates. It is only natural." Feeling bold, he brought his hands up to the leader's muscular chest, and felt the lean, hard flesh under his palms. Laren's chest hitched as his breath caught.
We are more sensitive like this, Alvarr thought. Though they were so much more defenseless against the world, their soft human skins were more open to every touch. A shudder ran through his mate as Alvarr found his small, flat nipples.
"You like that?" the whispered. Overcome with curiosity, he moved down and lightly touched his tongue to Laren's chest.
His mate made a low, rough sound, and his hands clutched Alvarr's head for a moment. "Sorry," Laren whispered, rubbing the spot where he had taken a handful of the mage's reddish-brown hair.
"You're not hurting me," Alvarr said. On the contrary, the uncontrolled gesture had caused his member to harden. He had affected the leader, his mate. Now, he wanted more of Laren's unguarded reactions. Inching down, Alvarr took Laren's nipple into his mouth and sucked.
Laren's leg hooked around his, and his hips thrust forward. The wet tip of his member dragged across the mage's stomach. He made to move away, but Alvarr didn't let him. He rolled onto his back, taking the leader with him.
It was dark, but he could see Laren's dark eyes looking down at him. "Kiss me," he whispered. "I want to be with you. I have missed you." Alvarr reached up and threaded his fingers through Laren's short, ash-brown hair.
"You..." Laren resisted Alvarr's tug down, but propped himself up on one hand. With the other, he reached down until he found Alvarr's hard member. "You want me to..."
"Yes, Laren," Alvarr said. He felt like stamping. And then, he realized what was holding Laren back. In the past, they had mated like stallion and mare, and it was a stallion's unquestionable, rightful place to mount and produce foals. All of their people, male and female, knew the importance of producing foals, for a mare could only birth one per year.
But now, they were in man-shape, without Nature's hand to guide them. But Alvarr knew.
He spread his legs so Laren fit in between them and pulled his mate's head down. This time, Laren did not resist. He kissed Alvarr with soft, gentle lips, as though it was the first time they had ever done this.
It almost is, Alvarr thought. He pressed his hips up, and his organ found Laren's. Though the contact was light and fleeting, a flare of excitement moved through him. He hadn't been touched in so long. It was probably the same for Laren.
Inside Laren's dwelling, the air grew warm with the heat of their two bodies. He wanted more of Laren's taste, and he licked his mate's firm lips with his tongue. Laren gave him what he wanted; his mate's hot tongue met his, and Alvarr felt a tiny more like they were part of each other.
Alvarr gripped his mate's shoulders, feeling the shift of flesh beneath his fingers, then moved down Laren's back to his narrow waist. His mate seemed to press up into the mage's touch. It has been too long for both of us, Alvarr thought. We all need comfort; without it, we can even go mad.
Feeling greatly daring, though he did not know why, he moved his hands down to Laren's buttocks. His mate groaned and broke their kiss. When Alvarr squeezed, Laren put his head down on the mage's shoulder and shifted restlessly, his harsh breathing audible in the silent night. "How do you know what to do?" he whispered, lips moving against the mage's skin.
Alvarr rubbed the soft skin over hard muscle. "Nature guides me," he said. The mage widened his legs and brought his knees up so that Laren was cradled between them. Every inch where they touched blazed with heat, especially Alvarr's sensitive inner thighs where they held Laren's hips.
With a small noise, Laren moved until their hard organs pressed against each other, the leader's thick, massive shaft alongside Alvarr's thinner, graceful one. "I want to..." The leader huffed, sending a warm breath along the mage's neck.
"Want to what?" Alvarr asked. He wanted to sink his teeth into Laren's shoulder, to taste the salty skin of the leader's neck, but he stilled himself. This is important. He doesn't know how to give into his desires. As leader, he puts himself last. But now, Alvarr hoped that Laren was going to listen to Nature's guiding voice.
"I want to fill you with my seed, like this," Laren said, avoiding the mage's eyes. "It will have no purpose, I know-"
Alvarr stopped his words with a gentle hand over his lips. "It does have a purpose," he said, rolling his hips against his mate's. "It feels good, like a warm spring rain, or the taste of sweet water, or running over soft grass. Not everything has to be about survival. It can be about... pleasure, about belonging."
Slowly, Laren nodded.
Alvarr felt his mate's chest expand, and the warm stream of air blew against his cheek as the leader sighed. "I want to know what it's like in man-shape," Alvarr said. "I want to be with you in all ways."
For the first time, he wondered if Laren would even fit. As equines, so many things were easier, and this was one of them, Alvarr imagined. The mage shivered as he imagined Laren's thick member stretching his sensitive hole. His hands clutched the leader's back. Whatever happened, it was as Nature intended. It will work.
Laren pulled back and knelt between the mage's legs. Dim moonlight shone through the cracks of his woven dwelling and touched the leader's body with silver. Alvarr could feel his mate's gaze over his own slight form, and where the leader's eyes stopped at the mage's extended organ.
Gently, Laren's hands came down over Alvarr's slim, but strong, chest. "I have never been with anyone in man-shape or woman-shape, except for that one time with you," the leader confessed. "This would still be new to me, even if you were a mare."
Alvarr nodded slowly. "We'll just see how we like it. We can just... do what we did before," he added. "That was good, too." Who would have thought I'd be pressing anyone to mate with me? But Laren, so used to being in command of himself, was clearly uncertain.
"No! No," the leader said, determination firming his voice. "I want to try this." He stroked lightly over Alvarr's nipples, and down his stomach to his erect member. He took the hot shaft in a loose grip.
Alvarr made a noise of enjoyment deep in his throat. This, Laren knew to do. "I did this to myself, when I was alone on my journey," he said, a little breathless. Laren's grip tightened. "But it wasn't as good as being here with you." He thrust up into his mate's hand.
Laren leaned over him and they kissed for a brief, intense moment. Alvarr loved the weight of his mate pressing him down. His eyes closed, and he wrapped his legs around Laren's narrow, strong waist. This was always what he craved.
Laren groaned and nipped Alvarr's neck. "What do I do?" he breathed into his mate's ear.
"I think, put your fingers inside me," Alvarr said.
He closed his eyes and asked Nature for help. With a creaking sound, a few vines in the wall closest to them came to life. They rustled as they turned to living green and grew thick green tendrils. He reached over his head and pulled one down, where a flower unfolded in his palm.
The center of the flower brimmed with a smooth nectar. He held it out to his mate. "Put some of this on your fingers. Use it to ease the way," he said.
Laren swiped the inside and rubbed his thumb and index finger together. "You are a wonder." With a faint smile, he pressed one finger against Alvarr's human opening.
Alvarr's eyes opened wide. He could feel everything. It wasn't the sense of pressure that he'd felt as an equine. Every nerve leapt to life under his mate's touch. "Go inside," he said, hooking his leg around Laren's shoulder to pull him closer.
Laren's finger moved inside, and the sap from the plant made it glide easily along the mage's hot passage.
Alvarr gasped. Though they had mated before, this was different. A warm throb went through him where Laren's finger connected with his body. His body stretched around it. "Put another in," he whispered.
Laren pulled his hand away for more sap. Though Alvarr felt the loss, two blunt fingertips pressed against his hole, and he swallowed them up. He flung his head back and dug his heel into Laren's back. Inside, a golden glow spread through his whole body, radiating from where Laren speared him.
Laren started to pump his fingers in and out. "You need to stretch more," he said, his voice hoarse and low.
Alvarr hardly heard him. He was moving into Laren's hand, his member so full and hot that he felt pulled tight. Though he knew he was constantly making a low, whining sound from the back of his throat, he couldn't stop.
"I'm going to try something," he heard Laren say. With alarm, he felt Laren moving back. The leader gently unhooked Alvarr's leg where it was trying to pull his mate closer. But the fingers stayed in him, deep and steady.
And then, Alvarr felt Laren's lips touch the tip of his member. He pumped his hips up, and Laren opened his mouth. Warmth enclosed his shaft, and the slide of the leader's tongue against Alvarr's skin was too much.
Everything in him pulled tight for a single, shining moment. His back arched, and his fists clutched handfuls of his mate's thick hair. And then his hole gripped Laren's fingers over and over, sending jets of seed into Laren's mouth. He was aware he might be choking the leader as he thrust, but he couldn't stop himself.
Laren pulled himself off Alvarr's spent organ, squeezing the last few drops out with his fist. He licked his lips, then moved up the mage's body to kiss him.
Alvarr tasted his earthy release on the leader's lips. His passage felt empty without his mate's fingers, but he wrapped his legs around Laren once more. "Come into me, now," he said. "I want to feel you."
Laren nodded and reached for more sap. He coated his hard, extended organ until it shone, and then moved into Alvarr without hesitation. It stretched him, hot and hard.
"Does it hurt?" Laren whispered.
"I don't know. No," Alvarr said. He pressed his heels into his mate's strong back, encouraging him to move.
With a harsh sound, Laren started to thrust, small movements that made Alvarr ache on the inside. Laren's brow was furrowed in concentration, and Alvarr knew it was because he didn't want to be too rough on the smaller, slighter man.
But Alvarr didn't want his mate's caution. He wanted to experience the leader's strength and fire. He tightened his hole where it was stretched around Laren's thick member.
Laren threw back his head and shouted. Then, he started to pound the smaller man with deep, fierce movements. Alvarr swore he could feel his mate's organ getting bigger inside him, and he loved the how the leader's sac slapped him when Laren drove all the way inside.
The tip reached far, right to the core of the mage. Something in Alvarr just submitted to his leader's pounding, and hot fire streaked from his inner passage to his own member.
This was wondrous, even more so than having Laren's mouth on him. The mage whined and panted, scratching his blunt nails down Laren's strong shoulders. His hole had started to squeeze around the hot shaft, and his member smeared trails where it was caught between them.
"Alvarr," Laren cried. "Alvarr, I..." Quickly, the leader grabbed Alvarr's organ as he sheathed himself in his mate.
The mage felt the spasms in the base of Laren's shaft, and knew that he was releasing into him. With a cry, Alvarr, too, joined him, and they were locked together in Nature's bliss for long moments, pleasured to the point of pain.