In her hand was a hinged wooden box with a black clasp. On the lid was a painting of a white bird with a long neck, its wings stretched out in flight. Fred rubbed in with her fingers, wiping away the dust. There were some words, written in gold. 'The Game of the Goose,' she read slowly. Fred felt strange. She shivered. 'Open it,' said Rowley.
So begins the Game of the Goose. Fred, Rowley and Rabbit hardly knew each other before the game. But the game changed everything. It took each of them on an adventure – a terrifying, wonderful adventure of hoping and saving and living and dying. It was a journey that they would remember forever.
In her hand was a hinged wooden box with a black clasp. On the lid was a painting of a white bird with a long neck, its wings stretched out in flight. Fred rubbed in with her fingers, wiping away the dust. There were some words, written in gold. 'The Game of the Goose,' she read slowly. Fred felt strange. She shivered. 'Open it,' said Rowley.
So begins the Game of the Goose. Fred, Rowley and Rabbit hardly knew each other before the game. But the game changed everything. It took each of them on an adventure – a terrifying, wonderful adventure of hoping and saving and living and dying. It was a journey that they would remember forever.