A smell of damp earth arose around us.

The smell of the herbs arose freshly in the cool air of the hillside.

A sweet smell arose, a drowsy scent, like herbs under a hot summer sun.

Even before he saw them, their foul smell arose.

A nauseating smell arose and the flames died down.

When she lifted the lid, a burnt smell arose.

As one travels this connective line between two idioms, a faint smell of death arises.

It broke, a dreadful smell arose, the people hurried out into the air, and, for the third time, it was left alone.

The smell of the sea arose from below, but she was perched in a cramped space.

A smell arose from the earth, of cold soil and wetness and waiting.