I didn't know my toes were wet. Until the heron caught its fish, I stood at the water's edge holding my breath. When at last I raised my head, the fog had lifted and I could see the far bank of the river. Only then did I take a step. No one was waiting for me, but I thought it would be all right to walk a little more slowly.
By the river after the fog lifted, the moment a heron swallowed a fish, my steps stopped on their own. Where the bird flew off, only ripples remained.