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Duck’s never felt an innate pull to nature the way Juno does.
He didn’t spend his childhood in the forest, learning its ins and outs, finding the ideal spots to observe animals without bothering them, scaring his parents half to death when he came back too late.
He didn’t spend his teenage years running to the relative solitude of the forest to cry or scream or make out with people.
No, before starting to consider becoming a ranger, the forest surrounding Kepler was little more than a background; something always present in his life, but utterly meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
That’s not to say that Duck settled for his job, or that he’s not entirely invested in the welfare of his section of the Monongahela.
It just means that, to Duck, the forest has always been more of a work thing than anything.
Maybe that’s why Duck feels so… uncomfortable as he stands before the huge white tree holding the copper nails he took from Juno.
Killing trees just isn’t something Duck’s ever had to do. Sure trees need to be trimmed sometimes, but if a tree’s sick enough to need to get cut down, they’d just call in a crew.
Duck can hear the sounds of Aubrey and Ned fighting off the goatmen over the sound of his own heart pumping in his ears, and he knows that he’s freezing up again.
For no reason this time. Not that the reason was particularly good last time, but at least it was there.
How hard is it to kill a tree?
Duck forces himself to run to the tree, narrowly avoiding one of Aubrey’s magical attacks on the way there, and he presses the first nail to the tree, trying and failing to stop the slight shake in his hands.
Why is it so hard to kill a tree?
This thing isn’t even really a tree, it’s an abomination. It created a hoard of goatmen, it caused the accident that almost killed Juno, it destroyed Leo’s store, it killed Dan.
Duck hits the nail as hard as he can into the tree’s thick bark. As he does so, a scream rings through the forest, and it takes Duck a split second to realise it’s one of the goatmen and not the tree itself, but even then it’s enough to make him tense and freeze again.
Duck’s supposed to protect the forest, make sure there’s no risk of fire, make sure all the trees are healthy. And it’s obvious that this tree isn’t normal. And that it’s an invasive species. And that it’s not even an Earth tree.
It shouldn’t be so hard to kill a tree.
And it isn’t. Once Duck shakes his head, stops the distracting thoughts, it’s not hard at all.
It takes a while of course, it’s a huge tree, but once Aubrey and Ned have secured the goatmen, they help him and get it all over with. Easy as pie.
As they all drive back to Amnesty Lodge and the adrenaline starts to die down, Duck feels apprehension settle into his stomach.
That abomination was going to destroy the forest. His workplace, the thing he’s dedicated his life to, the thing he found as his original respite from Minerva’s initial craziness.
Sure, the other abominations they’ve encountered have been in the forest at least once, but they wouldn’t have destroyed it. Not the way the tree threatened to.
Duck’s never felt an innate pull to the forest. But he’s learnt to feel its comforts: the sound of wind rustling leaves far above, the crunch of dried leaves under his feet, the purpose he’s found to his life because of it.
It’s not that he resents Minerva, not anymore at least.
But the thought of losing any of that, all of that, to something related to her - despite the fact that it’s entirely out of her control - that, well, that terrifies Duck.
It terrifies him more than anything.