He nodded.
We Changed inside an empty loading dock near the train tracks.
When I was done, I stuck my muzzle out and inhaled. An explosion of scent hit me, so complex and strong that I almost reeled back. Clay's nose brushed my shoulder as he pushed out for a sniff of his own.
Cities smell foreign. There's no better way to describe it. As a human, the smell of the city conjures up many emotions and connotations, some good, some bad, but all...normal.
As a wolf, though, I'm assaulted by a combination of incongruent scents. With the forest, I know what to expect--flora and fauna, all earthy, musky, natural smells. Here in one whiff, I picked up dirt and asphalt, mouse droppings and sewer gas, leaves and fresh paint, sweat and cologne, rotting roadkill and fresh cut fries. None of it seemed to fit together, but the incongruence, while jarring, was like a wonderful puzzle for my brain, picking apart the scents and trying to identify each.
Nick nudged my hindquarters. When I didn't move, he nipped my haunch. I swallowed a snarl and settled for flicking my tail in his face before sliding out.
I went only far enough to stop blocking the way, then glanced around. The look was more habit than necessity. If anyone was here, I'd smell him.
Once all four of us were out, we split up. Antonio and Nick took the side streets while we'd search the ground behind the hotel. That meant their territory was tougher to cover, but ours was far more vast--instead of circumscribed paths along sidewalks and back streets, we had train tracks, open grassland and parking lots.
I started with the tracks, which ran along the rear of the hotel over to Union Station. After five minutes of that, Clay bumped my shoulder, telling me to give it up. He was right. The stink was too much--creosote, diesel fuel, pesticides and whatever else decades of use had dumped into the soil.
We headed for the maze of sidewalks, green space and covered walkways that linked the SkyDome, CN Tower and convention center. The wind whistled around the empty buildings, the distant clomp of a security guard's boots was the only sign of life
. Here we became canine scent vacuums, loping back and forth over the open areas, noses to the ground.
We eventually ended up down a small hill, in a desolate piece of wasteland that earned a tidy sum as a parking lot during baseball season. As we crisscrossed the lot, I found what we'd been hunting for--zombie rot.
I let out a doglike bark, calling Clay over. He snuffled the ground between my forelegs, then grunted. We split up, Clay tracking the scent one way, me the other. When I realized my trail headed away from the hotel, I doubled back and took over from Clay.
Once out of the parking lot, the tracking was slow going--too many other people's scents joined the zombie's...and it was the male zombie, who didn't stink as bad as Rose.
When headlights flashed behind us, Clay bumped me into the shadow of an advertising sign, and we huddled there while the cars disgorged by a red traffic light zoomed past. Coast clear, I headed back to the sidewalk...and couldn't find the trail. It was so faint and overlain with other scents that I had to backtrack to pick it up. Half a block later, it vanished again.
As we stepped away from the streetlights to let more cars pass, Clay nudged me and gave a slow shake of his head. With the trail this faded, it probably wasn't recent. True, but it was the only one I had, so I veered around Clay and kept following it.
The longer I insisted on following the trail, the more incensed Clay became. By the time we neared the hotel, Clay was furious, growling and jostling me as hard as he dared. Several times he strode off, but when I didn't follow, he came back, mood fouler. When he nipped my haunch, I spun on him, ears back, snarling. He returned my snarl and we faced off, growling and snapping until footsteps sent us both diving for cover.
A couple passed on the distant sidewalk, laughing, arms around each other. As we watched them go, a sigh shuddered through Clay's flanks. He looked over at me and gestured, asking me to just leave the old trail for a while, and we'd come back if we couldn't find a better one.
I lowered my nose to the ground and inhaled. Yes, it was the bowler-hatted zombie's trail, but at least four others crisscrossed over it...and there couldn't have been that many people across this grassy patch since dark.
As I lifted my head, I caught another sent. Faint but...
I strained, my nose twitching. I gestured for Clay to follow, continuing in the same direction the bowler-hatted zombie had gone.
He growled, patience evaporating. I smacked the bottom of his muzzle with mine, directing his nose. His eyes widened as he caught Rose's scent.
I bumped his side, snorting a "See, I was right." He swatted me with his tail, then, as I turned on him, tore off after Rose's scent, leaving me to catch up.
We slowed as we entered a service road. From up ahead came the clicking of nails on pavement. I sniffed, then let out a sharp yip. Clay circled me, tail swishing, eager to be off now that we might have a target.
I was about to yip again when Antonio slipped from the shadows ahead of us, with Nick at his heels. I made a show of sniffing the air. He dipped his muzzle in a nod, and signaled left. I followed him. Within twenty feet we hit Rose's trail, which they'd already been following.
I snuffled along it for a bit, back and forth, then looked up at Clay. He grumbled deep in his chest, eyes doubtful. This trail was stronger than the bowler-hatted zombie's, but didn't seem any more recent.
When I motioned I wanted to follow it, though, he grunted his agreement. We were about to set out when Antonio stepped in front of me. I backed up, presuming he wanted to lead. Pack hierarchy can be a tricky thing. Technically, as Jeremy's "spokesperson," I outrank Antonio. Yet he was my senior--and the stronger wolf--so the distinction was questionable. In a hunt, Clay and I followed Antonio's lead.
When I fell back, though, he snorted, and gestured for me to lead, but cautiously. He must have seen or smelled something up ahead earlier--probably people. So we proceeded in a single file down the empty service road, clinging to the shadows in case someone appeared.
As we reached the end, my pulse quickened. Rose was here. I could smell her in the air. Just around that corner--
A gentle nip at my hind leg. Antonio. I stopped and took a deep breath. Other scents fluttered past, woven with Rose's stench. Other people. Close by.