As you haul your bag down the path, small sounds grow louder
and multiply. Birds screech. Insects chitter and whirr. Plants slap
against your leg. And your own breath and blood pound in your ears.
Then, something. A voice. A human voice. Calling something -- what?
Calling out your name. "Here!" you shout.
You hear plants being pushed aside. Through the foliage, you glimpse
a hat, an arm, the face of a young man.