Deep in the heart of Dappleton Woods, nestled by the babbling Brookly Creek, lived a family of dazzling ducks. Papa Duck, with his feathers as green as emeralds, Mama Duck, elegant and graceful, and their little duckling, Dunston.

Dunston, unlike his siblings, had a rebellious streak brighter than his yellow beak. If Mama said, "Stay close," Dunston wandered. If Papa quacked, "Time for bed!" Dunston stayed up to catch fireflies.

"Dunston!" Mama Duck quacked one sunny morning. "It's time for our morning swim!" Dunston, however, was busy chasing butterflies, his little webbed feet a blur against the dew-kissed grass.

He loved the water, did Dunston, but he loved doing things his own way even more. "Just a little longer," he mumbled to a curious caterpillar, mesmerized by its wiggling journey up a blade of grass.

The family reached the shimmering surface of the creek. The sunbeams danced on the water, making it sparkle like a thousand diamonds. Dunston's siblings splashed and paddled, their joyful quacks echoing through the woods.

Dunston finally arrived, a mischievous glint in his eye. He waited till Mama Duck wasn't looking, took a flying leap, and landed with a mighty splash, soaking his mother from beak to tail.

"Dunston!" Mama Duck exclaimed, shaking water droplets from her wings. "How many times must we tell you? No splashing!" Dunston just giggled, his tiny tail wagging like a metronome.

They swam and played until the sun climbed high in the sky. "Alright, little ones," called Papa Duck. "Time to get out and dry off!" Dunston's siblings reluctantly paddled towards the bank, but Dunston, naturally, had other plans.

"Just five more minutes!" he pleaded, his voice barely audible over the sound of the gurgling water. He dove deep, his little wings propelling him through the cool water, feeling like the fastest duck in Dappleton Woods.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours. Dunston, tired and hungry, finally decided to join his family. He swam towards the bank, but his legs felt like lead. He tried to flap his wings, but they felt heavy, like wet cotton wool.

"Mama? Papa?" he called out, his voice a tiny whimper lost in the rustling leaves. Panic fluttered in his chest. He tried to stay afloat, but he was sinking, sinking, sinking...

Dunston never got to tell his parents he loved them. He never got to say sorry for being stubborn. He never saw his family again, his story a reminder to always listen to your parents, especially near water.