Silvertip Mountain There were no seasons in the cave

She smiled in response to his compliment, glad he was so interested in her theory how closely linked smell and emotion were. He next told her that his favorite smell made him feel at home. She wanted to ask if these trees were plentiful in his home before Ursus, even more intrigued by the pale man by the minute. 

But he had moved on, asking for more of her favorite scents and how they made her feel. He apparently wanted to make a story, and she was happy to oblige. Running water, she said first. It smells different than a lake or pond where the water is stagnant. She was sure he would also know the distinction, although it might smell differently to him. It always puts me in a playful mood, maybe because I always want to jump in. She chuckled a little at the thought. 

Her face turned more serious then as she continued. But the smell of fire makes me feel uneasy. It was for a good reason; fire was destructive. The smell of decay makes me anxious, Arielle told him next. But the smell of stone baking under the sun is relaxing. It makes me want to bake in the sun too. She was thin in body and coat, so the sun was never unwelcome. 

What kind of story will you make with these? she asked next, her gaze searching his face, careful still not to meet his eyes.