“Can you smell the cold air approaching?”
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear his words at first, until I look back at my old mage and watch his motion— head raised, he sniffs the breeze with his eyes closed, his tufted beard shifting. I mimic him, lifting my snout to catch the fresher winds up high, finding the crisp scent of snow and dropped leaves. Winter comes in quickly in these parts, racing up on sleepy autumn before all the trees have had a chance to shed.
“I do,” I rumble in reply, watching the clouds soar overhead like rockets.
All I get in reply is a soft, “Hmm.”
It must be fast indeed for a dwarf to scent it. Perhaps we had better head home earlier than planned. Our research can wait until next year.