The air was cool and close, and all the light they had was so faint that it was scarcely light at all. […]    What ailed the air of Sicily? […] The air was sweet with the fragrance of the ambrosia they eat and the nectar they drink. […]    While Echo answered, “Come, sweet Air!” […] The Minotaur had not yet seen him, but stood turning its head this way and that, sniffing the air and listening.