Further in he could scent death, and his father. Yet the space that scented strongest of him and was soaked in his coagulated blood, did not contain his body, nor the three swords.
He did smell two of his father's retainers, so perhaps they had taken his remains to another location.
The harlot and her spawn had left, their scents went off in a different direction, away from the burning wreckage.
Sesshoumaru stood, a lone figure amongst the charred remains, ash drifting like snow around him.
All of this death, all of this for one woman. His father, the Samurai Takemaru, the dragon clans and so many humans, all for one woman.
And he despised her.