Torchanar paused in his stride, sniffing the crisp winter air. It was faint, so very faint that he thought it might be a trick of his senses. Parting his lips, he inhaled deeply, using the trick to increase the sensitivity of smell. There it was. A trace of the odor of burning. It might have been missed by orc or ordinary men, but Torchanar was Dunedain and his senses well tuned to the natural world.
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