Defender of the Raisin
Lady Wynter had been on the Overland—what her people called the world where humans lived—for only a few days. It was the first time she had ever ventured above the sea. The sky felt impossibly far away, and the ground impossibly high. She still hadn't grown used to breathing air that wasn't wrapped in cool water.
This article is a work in progress, and may be subject to changes.
This article is part of a series related to streaming the Game of Tomes. For more information, see Streaming Game of Tomes.
She had come with the Anassa because she'd been asked to, and Lady Wynter trusted her judgment. With little to occupy her, she wandered.
She couldn't quite remember what the humans called this place. There were so many names—for people, for towns, for valleys. Humans seemed to delight in naming everything. Perhaps it would become easier with time.
The valley itself fascinated her.
She imagined how beautiful it would look beneath the sea, rows of vines swaying gently like kelp forests while schools of silver fish darted between them.
The thought made her smile.
Then she frowned. The humans probably wouldn't appreciate finding their valley underwater.
She turned her head toward the western mountains. Somewhere beyond them lay the Pacific Ocean. She couldn't truly smell the sea through the mountain barrier, but every so often the wind carried the faintest whisper of salt. Perhaps she imagined it. Perhaps she simply wanted to.
Home.
Her heart ached. The Anassa had promised that when the war ended they would return to Zafforza City. Return to the sea.
She held tightly to that promise.
Everything here was so... dry.
The air seemed to steal moisture from her lungs with every breath. Her skin felt tight. Even her mane felt wrong. Nothing smelled familiar. Instead of salt, kelp, and brine she found herself surrounded by hot dust, sun-baked wood, drying vines, and the earthy scent of irrigated fields struggling against the desert.
It was overwhelming.
Especially inside those... Lady Wynter snapped her fingers. Buildings. Humans packed themselves shoulder to shoulder inside buildings while food cooked and countless scents mingled together. She had escaped one earlier that afternoon feeling as though she might suffocate.
Out here she could breathe. Or at least breathe a little easier.
Currents curse it...
What was this valley called?
It started with a C... she was almost certain. And the little town nearby... Something beginning with T.
Lady Wynter sighed. She'd remember eventually.
A dry breeze wandered through the vineyard, rattling the dusty grape leaves overhead. The sound made her ears twitch. The first time the brittle leaves had whispered together she'd nearly bolted, convinced some wandering shade had found her.
Now she merely looked up.
The trellises stretched in long, orderly rows toward silent packing sheds sitting empty beneath the blazing afternoon sun. Stacks of harvest bins waited beside loading docks that hadn't seen workers in days. Whatever bustle had filled the vineyard earlier in the summer had long since passed. Late August had surrendered the fields to silence and heat.
Even the vines looked tired.
Their leaves drooped beneath layers of dust; their edges curled from months of relentless sunshine. Most of whatever fruit had once hung from the vines was gone, leaving only a few forgotten clusters tucked beneath the canopy. The remaining purple globes had begun to shrivel in the crushing heat, overlooked by the humans who had harvested the rest.
The humans, Lady Wynter decided, understood construction. She had tested several of the trellis posts earlier with careful shakes. They hadn't budged. Functional. Not nearly as beautiful as carved coral columns or shellwork back home, but sturdy.
A lone tumbleweed rolled lazily between two rows before the hot wind carried it onward across the empty dirt lane. Lady Wynter watched it go. "How strange."
Under her hooves the earth was unlike anything she'd ever known. Pale clay had cracked into countless tiny islands surrounded by powdery dust and loose sand. Heat radiated upward from the ground itself until she could feel it through her hooves. Even beneath the vines, the shade was only an idea.
Carefully she folded her legs beneath herself and settled onto the hard ground.
She missed soft seabeds and cool water. She missed home. And all at once, tears welled in her eyes. She missed her herd and First Mother. Most of all, she missed the old songs.
Lady Wynter folded her arms across her chest and quietly began to sing the first lullaby every Aquatic Centaur calf learned.
"Hear the whale beyond the foam,
Singing every traveler home.
Long before your first sunrise,
It knew the color of your eyes.
"Listen close, don't be afraid,
Every note the old one made.
Low and gentle, deep and long,
Memory lives inside the song."
Lady Wynter felt the warm glow of her magic inside her. Her eyes roamed over the dry ground, foreign to her but not without its beauty. She leaned forward. It was covered in a fine layer of blown desert sand... a dark purple-black splotch. very out of place in its light colored surroundings. Curious, she bent even closer as she continued to sing.
"When you're weary, when you roam,
Hear the whale and follow home.
Though the sea is dark and wide,
It will lead you with the tide."
Lady Wynter picked up the splotch. It was a tiny thing, lying on the center of her palm. Its wrinkled and shriveled shell was warm and rubbery. What was it? she wondered as she looked out over the un-irrigated desert just beyond the last row of vines. Looking back down at her hand, she cocked her head and sang the last verse.
"So, sleep, my little tideborn, sleep,
Cradled by the endless Deep.
If my voice should fade away,
The whales will sing for me one day."
Lady Wynter's hand glowed briefly before she shut her magic down.
"I don't want to sleep anymore," a tiny voice said.
Lady Wynter gave a startled 'neigh', jerking to her feet. The wrinkly, dark purple-black thing went flying from her hand. Lady Wynter stomped her hooves and shook her head.
"Well, that wasn't very nice," the tiny voice said.
Lady Wynter spun around looking for who was talking. She could have sworn she had been alone.
"Up here," came the indignant response.
Lady Wynter turned slightly to her right, her eyes scanning the trellis.
"Up, Up."
Lady Wynter raised her head. The wrinkly splotch she had been holding was now hanging one handed onto the stem of a leaf. It had two needle thin arms and legs, and fingers as well. Two tiny, dark eyes blazed from folds. Where its mouth was she couldn't tell.
"That wasn't very nice of you. Tossing me like that after rescuing me from that hotness I'd been relegated to."
"What are you?" Lady Wynter asked.
"I'm a raisin." Its voice spoke of insult.
"A Raise-In?" Lady Wynter said, slowly. "What a weird name. No one wonder I can't keep things straight up here."
Raisin gaped at her. "Do you mind? It's not comfortable up here."
Lady Wynter held out her hand, palm up. Raisin dropped lightly into, took a few test steps, stretched his arms and then sat down to stare.
"My name isn't Raise-In. I'm a raisin. There's a difference."
"I don't understand."
"What’s so hard to understand? I'm a dried up grape that people eat, at least they do the ones that don't get left behind and covered in dirt."
Lady Wynter blinked. "Grape? Is that your last name? A Raise-In Grape? What does the 'A' stand for?"
The raisin gaped at Lady Wynter. "Dear anything on high, where do you come from not to have heard of grapes and raisins?"
Lady Wynter pointed to the mountains. "Past those. I live in the sea."
"See? What's that?"
"A very large, and deep body of salt water."
"Now who's talking crazy. Horses can't live underwater. And there can't be that much water to begin with."
It was Lady Wynter's turn to be indignant. "I'm an Aquatic Centaur. And I most certainly do live underwater. There are many large bodies of water. And some are bigger than others."
Raisin threw up its arms. "Look around you, Hor-see."
Lady Wynter glared at Raise-In. "I see just fine. Hot, arid, and pretty much barren. And don't call me horsey."
"You haven't given me a name, Hor-see. And you may be looking but you're not truly seeing."
Lady Wynter grinds her teeth before saying. "My name is Lady Wynter. And what is it that I'm supposed to be seeing? And how would you know? You didn't have eyes until just a little bit ago, Mr. A Raise-In Grape."
Raisin snorted. "A lot you know. Now look out there." It pointed.
Lady Wynter once again looked to the desert.
"Those olive-green, multi-branched shrubs with the small waxy leaves are creosote bushes. See their spindly branches lined with dark, knobby joints?" At Lady Wynter's nod, Raisin continued. "Their leaves are covered in a thick, sticky resin. When it finally rains, the resin releases this sharp, earthy smell. Folks around here say that's what desert rain smells like."
"There's not many of them."
"They're spaced apart so they don't compete for water. Out here, every drop matters."
Lady Wynter slowly shook her head. "To have to compete for water. I've never heard of such a thing."
"Never?"
"Never. There's always plenty where I come from, Raise-In."
Raisin sighed. "I can't imagine that. And quit saying raisin that way. It's not my name. It's what I am."
"I'm sure you've eaten grapes before or had wine."
Lady Wynter looked puzzled. "I've had wine and whiskey. But ours are made from tide-berries and kelp."
Raisin scratched his tiny chin. "I don't know what either of those are. Maybe tide-berries are related to grapes."
Lady Wynter shrugged. "Perhaps one day I shall compare them."
"You could compare them today," Raisin said. "If you carry me."
Lady Wynter looked down at the tiny creature resting in her palm.
"Carry you?"
"I don't have legs long enough to cross this vineyard." He spread both arms wide. "Besides, this sun has been roasting me for days. Harvest's over, the workers are gone, and I've been lying out here hoping something would notice me before I became... well... an even raisinier raisin."
Lady Wynter frowned thoughtfully. "You are already the A Raise-In."
Raisin groaned loud enough that a nearby sparrow startled from the vines. "I'm beginning to think the sun isn't the biggest threat out here."
Ignoring the comment, Lady Wynter carefully cupped one hand around him to cast a little shade. "There."
Raisin stretched happily beneath the shadow of her hand. "That," he sighed, "is the coolest I've been since they picked everybody else. Thank you."
"You are very welcome."
They wandered beneath the trellises. The vineyard lay silently around them. Plastic irrigation lines traced neat rows beneath the vines, and empty harvest bins sat stacked in the distance beside quiet packing sheds. Somewhere far away a tumbleweed rolled across a dusty service road, bouncing lazily before disappearing between the rows.
"So," she asked after a moment, "how does one become A Raise-In?"
"For the last time, its raisin."
"That's what I'm saying."
"I was once a grape."
Lady Wynter nodded slowly. "You keep saying that word."
"You really don't know what a grape is?"
Lady Wynter shook her head.
"It's..." Raisin paused. "Purple."
"So are you, Raise-In."
"But round."
Lady Wynter examined him critically. "I find that difficult to believe."
"I wasn't always wrinkled!"
"You weren't?"
"No!"
Lady Wynter looked genuinely fascinated. "You changed shape?"
"I dried out."
"Intentionally? In this heat?"
Raisin threw up its hands. "No! Humans help the process along, but this valley certainly doesn’t mind lending a hand."
"Oh." There was a long silence. Finally, Lady Wynter asked with complete sincerity, "Did it hurt?"
Raisin looked up at her. "No one's ever asked that."
"Well?"
"A little."
Lady Wynter's ears folded back. "I'm sorry."
He gave a tiny shrug. "It happens."
Lady Wynter continued walking.
Eventually Raisin pointed with both hands.
"There!"
Lady Wynter slowed.
Hanging beneath the dusty leaves were clusters of smooth, round fruit in shades of deep purple and pale green. Most of the vines had already been picked clean, but a few forgotten bunches remained hidden beneath the canopy, glowing softly where shafts of sunlight slipped through.
"Those," Raisin said proudly, "are grapes."
Lady Wynter slowed. "Oh." She stepped closer until her nose was only inches away.
"They're... inflated."
Raisin burst out laughing. "I've never heard anyone describe grapes that way."
"They resemble tide-berries. Only... puffier."
"They don't stay that way forever."
"No?"
"No."
Lady Wynter looked down into her palm. "Neither do Aquatic Centaurs."
Raisin looked up. "Why do you mean?"
"First Mother always said that every current changes us. No tide returns exactly as it left."
Raisin smiled. "First Mother?"
High atop the roof of the silent packing shed, a lone raven watched them with bright, intelligent eyes.
"My mother's mother's mother."
"Oh. She sounds interesting."
"She was."
A harsh caw shattered the stillness. The raven launched from the roof, gliding low between the vine rows. Its black eyes locked on the tiny raisin sitting on Lady Wynter's palm.
"Oh," Raisin groaned. "That's not good."
The bird folded its wings and dove.
Lady Wynter reacted instantly.
Her hand snapped shut around Raise-In, not tightly, but protectively, and she wheeled on her hooves. The raven missed by inches. It circled overhead with an indignant cry.
"Why is it chasing me?" Raisin squeaked from inside her hand.
Lady Wynter broke into a gallop down the dusty row. Fine powder exploded beneath her hooves while dry grape leaves rattled overhead. The afternoon air shimmered around them, making the distant trellises dance like waves upon the sea.
"I believe," she said with alarming calm, "it intends to eat you."
"What?"
"It appears you are food."
"I KNOW I'M FOOD!"
The raven dove again.
Lady Wynter ducked beneath a trellis, spread her forelegs, and skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust. The bird clipped the wooden beams and fluttered upward in irritation.
She peeked out cautiously. "It is persistent."
"You think?"
Lady Wynter's expression hardened. "Raise-In"
"What?"
"I rescued you."
"Yes?"
She squared her shoulders. "And I do not permit my friends to be eaten."
Raisin blinked. "Friends?"
Lady Wynter nodded once. "Friends."
The raven screamed overhead.
Lady Wynter looked up at it with the determined expression of someone who had fought Undead horrors beneath the sea.
"I like having a Hor-see friend," he declared. "You are now Defender of the Raisin."
"Defender of the A Raise-In?" Lady Wynter asked with a smile. "I did not expect to earn such an honorable title today."
Raisin opened his mouth to correct her, then closed it. “Yeah. That’s the title.”
Lady Wynter turned her head.
"What is it?" Raisin asked.
"My Anassa needs me."
"Can I come?"
"How else am I to protect you?"
WIP
Streamer
Missing
Status: Location Unknown
Deceased
Status: Deceased Character
Retired
Status: Retired Character or Article
All Game of Tomes content not otherwise specified is copyright 2020 -
All Hero Forge character art and tokens created and owned by, and used under license from, HeroForge.com. HeroForge.com is not responsible for the content of this show, clip, or segment, and hereby disclaims any and all content and views expressed herein.
2026
by Aradia Publishing. All rights reserved. All public Game of Tomes videos are released under a Creative Commons, Attribution, Non-Commercial, No-Derivatives license.
All Hero Forge character art and tokens created and owned by, and used under license from, HeroForge.com. HeroForge.com is not responsible for the content of this show, clip, or segment, and hereby disclaims any and all content and views expressed herein.
Cover image:
by
Shyredfox
Comments