Drew- Smell

Drew had dropped to his knees, longsword on the ground as he looked around. He tried to steady his heart rate, blanking out all sounds: Hector’s chattering, the shouts of the crowd at the entrance to the alleyway, doors slamming, dogs barking. He tapped into the Wolf, thinking about Gretchen; her voice, her movement, her smells. Red roses. Rose petals. Perfume. Her scent was strong, stirring emotions deep within. He turned his head, picking up a trace. He breathed in long and slow, catching hold of it. Then he followed it.

B2 P1 C3