He pointed to the swatch of yellow. “That’s about it.” He reached out and held it up, took a deep whiff, and then suddenly smiled such a smile as to put the Mona Lisa to shame.
“What? There’s no scent on it,” said Mack.
“No human scent, no,” he replied.
We all took a deep sniff of the impossibly small scrap of yellow, but nothing was causing any bells and whistles to go off, not for me or the other two. Only Steven, among us, was smiling radiantly, beautifully. “You’re not smelling anything because you’re already surrounded by the same aroma, and you didn’t smell it up the tree because of the same thing, the same scent coming off Jack here. It’s telltale.”
I stared at him with my head in a questioning tilt. “You lost me, dude,” said I. “I didn’t leave the scrap, and I certainly didn’t
