Silvertip Mountain There were no seasons in the cave

The woman Arielle was softly spoken, mulling the Taggerung’s answer over in her mind as though she could conjure the fragrance that he referenced with sheer force of thought. The bard thought it was a valuable trait, to speak to someone who so adamantly listened.

When asked about her favorite scent, she said that she enjoyed the smell of wet grass in the early hours of the morning. The Taggerung hummed softly at this, recalling the very aroma with a fond smile and nod of his head. A lovely smell, very good choice.

With some surprise, Arielle then asked the Taggerung if he could describe the scent of maple wood. The bard blinked at her a few times and then gazed thoughtfully at the path they walked on. It’s quite sweet smelling, earthy in a way. It carries with it the feeling of warmth and autumn. To me, at least…