In fact, killing it might not even be an option, for he fears that if he does, he will lose his sanity.
It already entices him, begs him to come closer. The smell invigorates him even more as he gets closer to his target, weaving a web around him until he will never be able to escape.
He is the fly, and it is the spider. A miserable feeling gathers in the pit of his stomach as he realizes that he is helpless.
What sort of trick is this wily creature playing?
The scent is unbelievably strong now, nearly overwhelming him with its beauty. To werewolves, scent is everything, and he experiences pretty aromas every day. Nothing, though, amounts to this lovely emanation that makes his head spin with dizzy delight. He feels like he is getting close.
Suddenly, the scent turns bittersweet, a sharp note corrupting the melody. Fear and terror enters the scent, making the sugary quality go away and polluting the smell he needs so badly. Now, a sinister stench fills the air, and the terror the creature is feeling fills him also.
Somehow, he can tell the emotions it is experiencing through its smell. However, the bad part is that he begins to feel the same emotions it does. The smell now is still intoxicating, but filled with need. It needs him.
Want quickly enters his body. He wants to experience that smell once again, but not the one it was currently emitting. He wants to make it happy, so the taste of fear will disappear from the aroma. He desires that special sweetness with an intensity he never knew he possessed.
His paws start to blur as they zoom through the forest so fast that even he can barely see them move. The longing is coursing through him, intensely corrupting his mind until all he can think of is the scent. He has to have it.
He reaches a small clearing, next to a thin creek that spills into Lake Ray a couple miles away. It is a beautiful little area, with lovely flowers and green bushes, the trees graceful and tall. The aroma is overpowering here. The creature must be in this vicinity.
His eyes search for it, looking for the evil thing that manages to produce such an attractive smell. At first, it is nowhere to be seen. But after he adjusts his eyes a little, he spots a figure in the dirt. It is a tiny thing, a small form covered in the thick mud, only a slender back seen from his angle.
He suspiciously circles the creature, trying to make out its features. It is hard to distinguish, the mud camouflaging it in the dirt. When he travels right in front of it, though, his heart stops beating.
Though not an overly pretty creature, it is still the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.