The sun was setting as a group of friends bounced along a dusty trail in their off-road vehicle. Just as they rounded a bend, they spotted something small and fluffy blocking the path—a duck, standing eerily still. Its feathers were a soft yellow, and it cocked its head, watching them intently.
"Oh no, poor thing! It looks hurt," one of them said, hopping out of the vehicle. The others followed, drawn by the helpless sight of the little duck.
As they approached, the duck let out a faint quack, almost pitiful. Its small, webbed feet shuffled slightly, and its beady eyes seemed to plead for help. But as they got closer, they noticed something was off. Its bill was smeared with a strange white foam, and its once-cute quack turned into a guttural hiss.
Too late.
The duck lunged, its foamy bill snapping viciously. One of the friends screamed as the tiny creature latched onto his leg, biting with unnatural strength. They all scrambled back to the car, horrified. Who knew that something so cute could harbor such madness?
As the rabid duck stood victorious on the trail, the engine revved behind it. The duck waddled on, awaiting its next victim.