Jonathan stared into the swirling depths of his mug and held his silence. It was the truth. He’d not seen The Loch since his boyhood days, when he’d played beside the Loch, young and carefree, never questioning why he couldn’t sit on the stones and watch the soft slap of the waves after the sun had gone down. He’d left with his mother at the age of eight and never looked back. Not during the waking hours.