It was the beginning of the end, and the duck only confirmed what they had feared. Old town lore had always claimed that a duck on misty waters was a bad omen - one of the worst, in fact. Things had been on a downward spiral for days; the duck on the pond one foggy morning was simply the nail in the coffin. As soon as one person saw it - the water rippling as the duck glided with fluttering wings along the surface of the pond - it was only a matter of time before the wildfire of this omen spread.

It was a peaceful scene, all things considered. What was so bad about a duck enjoying an uninterrupted morning in nature? Any outsider without context would think the townspeople crazy for the way they reacted. Although context might not have been in favor of the townspeople.

As soon as the news darkened her doorstep, Ashlynn wasted absolutely no time at all in taking every last precaution her daddy instilled in her growing up. She checked to make sure that all of her weapons were in their hiding place, and then did the same for her back-up weapons. She meticulously counted her stock of candles, bottled water, and non-perishable food. She boarded up every last window and door in her home. When, and only when, she was finally finished did she sit down on her couch and release a heavy sigh, tension leaking out of her shoulders.

It was then, at that very moment, the pounding started.