The tall grasses he had trampled through on his way over were back to standing tall on his return — propped up by the wind, no doubt, since they looked helpless and beaten up on their own.  He avoided trampling over the same ones till he realized he was doubling the damage.  He took to leaping to minimize damage to the already damaged grasses.  On one leap, he landed on a shell and fell, not by losing balance as much as in reaction to the crack of the shell.  He jumped up and didn’t stop to look back.  He forgot about all the care he had been taking with his leaps and simply lay low again the tall grasses he had earlier trampled through.  He didn’t want to know the bad that was likely being done.  He just wanted to get home and have his mother explain to him in a magical story the way good often kept itself hidden in the bad.  It would take such a story to have the kind of force on him that he had seen in the wind holding up weak trampled-on grass.