Wapun Meadow i'm ready to blow, i can't stand it

Of all things, it's a strange smell that draws him from his thoughts — or, maybe strange isn't quite the way to describe it. His nose wrinkles automatically at the garbage-and-rotten-fish scent suddenly permeating the area; he can't tell if that's a faint wolf scent mixed in or if he's imagining it. He's... probably imagining it. He can't imagine any wolf would be okay with smelling like that.
Just as he decides he's definitely still alone (unless a horrible smell counts as company), a soft huff somewhere behind him draws his attention back to his surroundings. His ears perk, one turning slightly, and for a beat he's frozen. The smell is still pretty strong, and — there is someone there, isn't there? Or something. He rises to his feet and turns fully, a little too wary to call out just yet, and surveys the area. He can't see anything yet, but his skin prickles as if he isn't quite alone.