Long before the sea came into view, while you were still walking along the narrow, twisting path through the trees, you could already smell the salt in the air and hear the gentle rustle of waves over the many types of bird call and, sometimes, the chattering of a distant monkey. The air here, and the sand underfoot, were cool, but both would be much warmer, though not unpleasantly so, on the beach.
The path forked, making a decision necessary. Turning left would mean emerging from the trees within sight of other children who were laughing, shouting, paddling and occasionally pushing each other to the ground or into the water. They were friendly most of the time, but they were also noisy and boisterous, and they would talk to you and invite you to take part in their games, which you would not enjoy. Turning right instead was the more comfortable, more reassuring, more peaceful option.
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