The Heartwood i'm not a complete wretch, i fetch

The sounds resumed, and so did the sound of his own movement in pursuit. He was growing more cautious as he gained upon the shape—because now he could see something, and still the scent of wolf dominated. Drusk slowed, watching; he did not see anything of great concern and so he resumed his hunt. It went this way, with stops and starts, until he smelled freshly tilled dirt and the sharp scent of some spicy, lemony herb.

It was strong, whatever it was; and soon it rivaled the strength of wolf scent, enough to make his desire to hunt evaporate and a stronger sense of danger creep down his spine. He took one last deep breath and turned his head, trying to get a look at whoever else was here—only, the ginger in the air burned at his nostrils and made him sneeze several times.

The stranger was nearby but he couldn't see her for all the gloss in his vision, after.