They were sitting around the dinner table. Like every day, they'd been up since the crack of dawn working on the farm. Milking the trio of cows, collecting the eggs, feeding the pigs and goats. After breakfast it was off to check the fence, fix the sections needing repair, note the spots that would soon need attention. That was all behind them now. They'd gotten fourteen productive hours out of the day, now it was time to relax.
The children shrugged. It seemed they played cards every night.
"Don't you have any other games?" The eldest asked. His two siblings hoped.
"We can play all sorts of games with cards."
"But it's still cards." The boy groaned.
"Hmph. Did I ever tell you about the card game my dad played before The Fall?"
"I bet it wasn't a card game."
"Actually it was. A game with almost anything you can imagine in it. There were wizards, and magic, and elves. There were fireballs, spells, dragon, thieves, and faeries. Cards with pirates, goblins, powerful warriors, and sneaky tricksters. A game with thousands of cards. Each card had wonderful art. There was a story to the whole game as well."
"How did you hold them all?" The youngest asked. She was skeptical. Thousands of cards? That seemed impossible to manage. How would you shuffle them?
"Oh no," grandpa laughed. "No. You picked only what cards you needed to make a deck of sixty cards. So, let's say you make a dragon deck and your brother might makes a wizard deck, then you would play against each other."
"Do you have any of those cards?" The eldest sibling asked.
Grandpa shook his head. "No. But I do have these cards." He held up the pack of 52 that had begun the conversation.
The children sighed.
"How about tomorrow I go into town and talk to the scavengers. How about that, uh? Maybe they'll have some of those cards."
The children cheered. Even the notion of playing something new was enough to give them a hint of hope.