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Duck leans even closer to the microphone, though he doubts it’s necessary, “Okay, listen. Two people, good people that I and a lot of y'all have known your whole lives are dead.” Duck sees Ned moving closer to the microphone out of the corner of his eyes as he continues, “Torn to shreds by-”
And, as he’s pushed aside by Ned who starts with his spiel advertising his shop, Duck is eighteen again in the forest in the middle of the night, facing a creature eerily similar to the one they’re fighting now.
The tall dark figure is humanoid, but only just barely. It stands hunched over at ten feet tall, its glowing eyes stare right through Duck’s soul, and it’s bringing one of its hands slowly towards Duck.
Duck stands frozen in front of the creature, his heart pounding out of his chest, unable to take anything but panicky short breaths. Duck knows that whatever’s going to happen when it touches him will be bad. He’s not sure how he knows, but he just does.
Duck thinks of fighting. Beacon’s at home, in the back of his closet where it can’t talk and talk and talk and annoy Duck. Besides, fighting it would mean touching it. And he doesn’t want to do that.
Duck thinks of screaming. But as he glances around, he can see a one,two,three more in the surrounding area. Screaming will just attract the others.
He can’t fight and he can’t scream.
The creature’s seconds away from touching him now, as slow as it is.
So Duck just books it. He runs through the forest as fast as he can.
He runs as far as he can, and keeps an eye out until he’s home.
It feels like hours pass before his breathing steadies and his heart slows.
And then he’s back in the present with Ned still at the microphone.
Duck pushes him aside gently, “Hey c'mon. We just wanted to warn y'all,” Duck hesitates, “to beg you, if you see one of those things out in the forest, don’t fight, don’t scream, run. Run as far as you can.”