Sweet eaton turned and held her long hair out of the way so she could inspect the fish in the pond near the patio. A strong breeze pulled it across her face, leaving a chill in its wake. The air smelled like blue gills and freshly mowed grass. The scent made her miss her childhood on the farm, but she had always preferred working with horses to other livestock. Iris leaned over and scratched at her neck when a mosquito buzzed around her ear.