Welcome to RoW! Sorry about Duck in this post, if you need more to go off then let me know <3 Maybe someone else could jump in as well?
The clever thing to do would have been to stay in the thicket and never leave.
It was too late for that, though. Far too late. If only he'd decided to be a recluse earlier, everything would have been the same and he'd have been happy (as happy as he ever was) and the world would still be normal. But nothing was normal anymore, everything was messed up and insane and reason had been flipped on its head. Love had spawned hatred, kindness had encouraged evil, and the weak were now expected to stand tall over the strong.
Duck didn't care what anyone said, Miccah was his king, his lord, and he couldn't bring himself to raise his tail in front of the man. Even the thought was ridiculous. But he understood that the Athesilas needed a figurehead, someone to hold the fort while the dark king regained his strength... and he would, he had to, because this situation was utterly insane and needed to be put right.
The good were dead and ill and the bad were roaming healthy and free and, apparently, in charge of things. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd lost the contents of his stomach in the last half-moon cycle alone.
Traipsing numbly through the forest, looking for something always out of his reach (maybe she'd be behind that tree, or that rock, or just over that hill, and he'd be proven wrong and everything could go back to normal - she'd know what to do) the fragile, broken, sorry excuse for the leader of Secret Woodlands was far too far from home, and he knew it, but he couldn't help it. Aideen needed him, the kids needed him, and he'd thought it a good idea to come here, why...? To fish? When there were good rivers and streams nearby? But there was nothing but trauma and bad memories to be had in those flowing waters, reflective mirrors which did nothing but show Duck all the worst parts of himself, but how else was he supposed to provide for the pack but to fish? It was his sole purpose. His only value. Now the weight of it all was on his shoulders and he knew he couldn't cope, it would crush him, but he had to try.
She would have wanted him to try.
Sniffing back the moisture in his nose, feeling the familiar prickle of sadness behind his eyes, the runt pushed on, ignoring the cold of his flesh because his heart was colder still. Physical pains felt all the less these days. He knew what total and utter agony felt like, and it had nothing to do with the sensations of the body.
A dark shape ahead caught his grey eyes, and he glanced over to the stranger in the near distance, barely acknowledging them, unable to summon anything but apathy - neither curiosity or anxiety took hold. Nor even fear of the unknown, for if the wolf was to be found dangerous... maybe it would not be such a bad thing.
So on he walked, on to where he knew the river would be, only able to keep walking if he maintained focus on his singular purpose. One step at a time, one breath at a time, one step at a time.