Fragrant Tree Crossword Clue Novels & Stories

The tree was sturdy, but even it might not withstand hours of that onslaught. Suddenly, a tantalizing aroma wafted by. Annoyed as he was, Alexander's nose perked up. It was a scent he had never encountered, one that somehow eased the poison's grip on him. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Alexander decided to investigate, half-hoping for a miracle. Bounding up the tree, he followed the scent to the canopy, where he found a cluster of pristine, basin-sized flowers in full bloom, their delicate pollen dusting his skin.

A mild floral scent comes after. “I actually did. My mom used to have an orange tree at the pack house when I was little. After she died, no one could tend to it and it withered. Fredrick threw out the stump to make way for some useless gazebo.” A sip has me relaxing my tense shoulders. I take note of the floral taste just like the smell, diluted honey and subtle bitterness in the background. It’s almost unnoticeable. “This is lovely.” “Fredrick is the one who-”

He pointed at different plants and taught them what they were: “That one is wild mint. If you rub the leaves, it smells good.” The girls all rubbed leaves. Arian shouted, “IT SMELLS LIKE TOOTHPASTE!” Adrian nodded. “Yes. Exactly.” He pointed at a tree. “This one is a fir tree. Soft needles.” Aria touched it. “It feels like a hedgehog.” Adrian blinked. “Not… quite.” Cassian: “She’s right. Very hedgehog vibes.” Adrian ignored him. At one point, Adrian crouched near the ground.

finally! An intoxicating smell fills my nostrils and this has been happening for a long while as I just sit there, but I feel the urge to stand up and follow the smell. It's the smell of the deep forest trees, like cedars, oaks, cyprus but fresh....so fresh and so... I don't know, but as it fills my nose, it becomes addicting.....so addictive! Who does this scent belong to? I don't think I've ever smelt this scent before....it's so intoxicating!

He chuckled bemusedly by my actions and question. “I know that but what kind of tree?” “It’s a pine tree, they grow almost everywhere in our kingdom.” He hesitated “Tala have you never seen a tree?” “Only palm trees in person and in books but this…” I inhaled again “This tree smells like you. Pine. Spice and pine that’s what you smell like to me.” I turned to him still as excited as a kid with candy. “I didn’t know what your scent was, just that it was divine and I like it. Now I know.”

I wasn't in an open field, it was just a wide space covered by trees where I noticed that there was a source of water close by. I untransform and am naked sitting on my feet holding an azalea that I had plucked from the small bush I had. - Look how beautiful they are - Close my eyes and enjoy the fragrance - Fragrant and elegant. - I say happily to Betina, who gives a genuine smile. - Yes my dear. Want your clothes?

You answer my questions and I might answer yours. Her scent was unlike anything I had ever smelled or previously been exposed to.It was like a delicious combination of dragon fruit and cinnamon that reminded me of when I would open a perfectly fragranced tub of lotion that I just could not get enough of, so I would end up constantly smelling it just to get my fix.

The brief contact leaves a tingle of recognition, like reuniting with a part of myself I didn't know was missing. The scents of the orchard envelop me in layers of intoxication. Ripe apples, their sweetness heavy and inviting, mingle with the headier perfume of night-blooming jasmine that coils around the trees' lower branches. Beneath these lies something older and wilder—earth and magic and time itself compressed into fragrance. I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with this intoxicating mixture, and feel something inside me uncoil in response.

Rosemary hedges spill over the fence, thick with resinous scent. Aria’s voice is quiet, almost hesitant. “Did they ever find out who planted the bomb in your grandfather’s car?” I stare into the orchard. Two gray giants plod side by side along the dirt path, hooves thudding in that slow, hypnotic rhythm that could rock the dead to sleep. Their eyelids droop half-shut, tails flicking lazily at the flies, breaths huffing in long, patient sighs. The wagon creaks behind them, piled high with crates, the fruity scent — sharp, green, earthy — mixes with the sweetness of figs and the citrus tang of lemons, spilling into the warm air.

Tamara leaned over the table, gazing at him expectantly. "No, that's not it." Cyrus frowned, putting down the last bottle. "What's wrong?" "That scent..." He paused, as if recalling carefully. "It isn't a single scent. It's more like the fragrance of many different plants blended together. I can't tell exactly what it is—in any case, blended together it's not strong, it's gentle, and it smells really good." Tamara tilted her head in thought and then collapsed face-down onto the table. "Where would you find such a scent? Unless it's someone's natural body fragrance—but who in the world is born with a natural scent like that?"