Silvertip Mountain There were no seasons in the cave

Interesting, she said, turning the words over in her head to see if a scent came from her memory. Unfortunately, she didn't remember a lot of specifics from her childhood, so nothing came to mind. 

She had more questions about his favorite scent, but he beat her to it, asking her the same question in response. Hmmm, she said absently. I think it's the smell of the wet grass early in the morning. For some reason the smell was comforting to her. If it was the first thing to fill her nose upon waking, she knew it would be a good day. 

I don't think I know what maple wood smells like, she added. Can you describe it?