Good things come to those who wait, and the wading drake is prepared to wait for a very long time. They hunt the Golden Arrow carp, a fish that is nearly impossible to catch, for their senses are sharp, their speed great, and some even believe they may have some small power of foresight.

But the drake will wait and wait, and wait some more, until one fish forgets that those are legs in the river and not branches or sticks, or it grows so used to the shadow on the water that it thinks nothing more of it. The foliage is not a part of the drake, it grows over them, attaching to their stillness and the dirt that inevitably settles on them. And when the time is right, the drake does not need to strike with a burst of deadly speed. Instead it simply reaches down and takes its prize in a careful paw.

The same wading drake has been seen in the same spot, unmoving, for months at a time, delicately taking what it has long awaited.