Something happens.
Snow falls, heavily, to sea level and late in the season. It piles deep in drifts along the riverbanks, all the way to the coast, weighting the branches of trees so that branches snap.
The water rises and spreads over the roads, lapping at fences. It surges. Small creatures are swept to the sea.
But then, that is how it happens, here and everywhere. Small creatures are washed away in their thousands, their millions. Their small bodies are found, piled in ditches.
She swims strongly against the current and is safe.
Then the sun comes out. The snow turns to slush and melts away. The river draws back to its accustomed channel.
A leaf falls.