Firestone Hot Springs you're the color of my blood.

Luckily, the stranger was not at all opposed to obeying Harlyn's suggestion.  He made a decently hasty retreat, one that the female joined him dutifully in.  Again, she measured his body language as he moved and again, he struck him as being physically well enough to function as he did.  Perhaps he was just extremely sensitive to the smell.  For a moment, Harlyn doubted her assessment.  Once she got him into cleaner air, though, she felt far more certain.  Especially when he shared words that even further confirmed her beliefs.

"Just relax here for a moment and catch your breathe," she replied, her ears slipping backwards for a moment as her concern overrode her need to push him further, "Once you feel up to it, we can keep going and get you out of here fully."  She leaned forward to snuffle comfortingly at his cheekbone, then shifting her muzzle to lick away some of the spittle that had collected in the corner of his mouth.  It tasted sour and unpleasant, but she was a wolf - I swear canines have no tastebuds.

It didn't take too long for the wolf to recover and while he was gracious enough in his thanking her for her help, he was quick to take his leave.  Instead of departing, Harlyn chose to linger.  It wasn't the greatest smelling place in the world perhaps, but it was certainly interesting, and thus she began to meander along the outer edges of the collection of hot springs where the air was a little clearer.