Escape & Make It Back To Your House

You could stay and keep watching those two until they notice you and add another member to their little group, but then, you aren't quite that stupid. Instead, you head back to the window where you came in and make your way right back out, walking back to your home and hoping that you never have to see more of this again. When you eventually arrive at your house, you see something at the front door that would make anyone else scream, but provokes little more than irritation in you.

"Oh COME ON! You CAN'T be serious!"

It seems like there's some sort of ridiculous latex beast around every corner like you're trapped in some twisted fetishist's dream, and your house is no exception. Sitting on your front deck, ever vigilant, watching for any sign of you and prepared to attack at a moment's notice... is a shiny black duck. A man-like duck, his wings thinner (perhaps even incapable of flight) and with longer, almost finger-like feathers, and his yellow legs stronger and slightly more muscular than your average mallard's, but still a duck. The ones that you'd seen earlier - the wolf, the cat, and the panther - all served to at least scare you, to at least appear as though they offered a serious threat, but not this one. No, this was the sort of animal that you'd eat for dinner, not the sort that would eat you.

It's obvious that he's there to guard your house, meaning that they must have figured out where you live somehow. Maybe the tracked your scent back to it or something. However they did it, it pisses you off more than it scares you. They could have left a pack of slobbering hounds to guard that front door of yours, or a vicious man-eating tiger, or some kind of silent, predatory snake. Even something as stupid as a swarm of insects might have been a real obstacle for you, but this? This is a duck! A flat-billed, flat-footed, fat old duck, and a clear insult to you given that they think it's all they need to stop you. Eventually, you can't hold back anymore. You fight the sight of it so infuriating that you can't resist just picking up a rock off the ground, pulling back, and chucking it at the bastard with all your might. You're a better shot than you'd thought: you nail it right between the eyes. It lets out an angry squawking for a second or two, a sound like an angrier Donald Duck, before dropping to the ground with a dull thud and stopping. Not just stopping the squawking mind you, but stopping everything, and lying as still as possible on your front deck.

A part of you starts to worry, and another starts to feel guilty, as dread begins to set in. What if you just killed it? You'd never killed anything but the occasional insect in the past, but this is something that was probably human at some point and you just did it in without any real hesitation! You're starting to sweat, your heart racing, your mind rushing from thought to thought. What if it IS dead? You really should find out...