The smell of smoke filled Cleo’s nose. It was times like this they wished she still had sensory neurons so she could really smell the acrid, herbaceous aroma of burning forestwood, They’d always loved the sweet-smelling scent of fire-smoke. But, alas, being undead meant most of her senses were dulled, so she could only smell the faintest whiff of cloying smog and soot. Unfortunate. But, no matter; she could still enjoy their work with her eyes. And it was quite a sight to behold, how the flames danced, a devouring wildfire that could not be extingushed once it was ignited. Really, she ‘ought to reel in their arsonistic tendencies, but how could she, when it was so therapeutic to watch things burn?