“Was she always that friendly?" I joke."She saw Robert. At least I got that out of her.""Maybe she buried him in the backyard.""Stop.""Did you smell it in there?""Yes.""That wasn't a normal smell. That wasn't the sort of something's-gone-bad-in-the-garbage smell. That was the sort of Dahmer-next-door smell.""Stop it.""I'm serious," I say."It's probably just some dead animal.""Oh, well, in that case, it's fine.”

“I didn't want to think about the fact that she could smell me, or that she just joked about eating me. At least I hoped she meant it as a joke.”

“The woman didn't taste bad, but she tasted wrong. She smelled good, but it wasn't right.”

“She just shook her head and pulled out a small bottle of some random pop star's signature perfume, spritzing me with the sickly-sweet smell. "Oh, come on Ash, that smells like a unicorn fart," I cried, recoiling at the overpowering, candylike smell.”

“When you smell our candles burning, what does it make you think of, my child?"Winterfell, she might have said. I smell snow and smoke and pine needles. I smell the stables. I smell Hodor laughing, and Jon and Robb battling in the yard, and Sansa singing about some stupid lady fair. I smell the crypts where the stone kings sit. I smell hot bread baking. I smell the godswood. I smell my wolf. I smell her fur, almost as if she were still beside me. "I don't smell anything," she said.”

“Then she saw him stop and wipe his brow with his handkerchief. Once, twice. And then once again. But she did not see the grin of relief spread over his face. That she did not see because her eyes had filled with tears. And the geraniums, they were just as sad. In any case, that's how they smelled.”