He growls softly, making a note of the tracks so he'll be able to draw them later n the physical world, but right now his Horror is angry at the intrusion. He follows along, carefully, tasting and sniffing the air to try and follow it. He pushes, willing and pushing at the Dream to open up a pathway toward what he's tracking, but doesn't get much response.

The smell makes his stomach churn, remembering the different yet similar scent of old beer his uncle used to drink. Shoving the memory aside, along with the question of if he's still around, he pushes forward, doing his best to follow the scent. The stronger it gets, the closer he has to be.