Spore

Z's following the tour group through the dim afternoon light beneath the rainforest canopy when he suddenly smells his wife's perfume.

The smell arrests him in the middle of the trail. He breathes in, deeply. It's a spicy, woody smell, with lemon and vanilla in it-- and it absolutely, utterly does not belong in the middle of the Ecuadorian rainforest. Who wears perfume in the rainforest?

Without thinking he steps off the trail, then pauses. The others are leaving without him. Maybe this is a bad idea. But hell, there's a trail, isn't there? And a smell like that can't be far away. Z pushes ahead, following his nose.

As he walks he can smell flowers, wet earth, dying leaves, and always the elusive scent, growing stronger. The sweat itches on his back, and he catches a spiderweb full in the face and has to claw it away. But it's not far, no more than thirty or forty seconds before he hears the rustling of leaves. There is someone there. Z hurries...