The soft nurturing sunlight sneaks quietly through the windowpanes as dawn slowly creeps upon the inhabitants of the Orkney beach. The morning dew drops clinging to the leaves of the huge oak trees begin to fade into the thin air reluctantly as fishwives start the fire and fishermen ready their hooks for a new day. A small child rubs his eyes unenthusiastically as he peers through the window wondering why he been dragged out of bed so early in the day.

    Down the main street is a small fishing hut; it is unoccupied for most of the time, as its owner is neither a fisherman nor a native of the village. Characteristic of the fishing huts that line the beach and streets of Orkney, it composes merely of rough wooden materials yet it is able to stand up to the storms that occasionally find the village in its path. Inside, a brilliantly crafted figurine stands alone on the oaken table staring at something unseen beyond the doors. As a sudden breeze blows pass the windows, the curtains frees itself from the windowpane allowing a glimmer of light to shine brightly into the room, directly onto the figurine. Its emerald green eyes glows brightly as though the infusion of light gave life to the figurine itself. Yet the figurine, dressed in an elegant dark brown suit holding a black cane under his arms, continues to stare proudly into the void with life-like longing and despair.

 With a click, the front door slowly creaks open as a young man enters from the muddy main street. Brushing the dirt of his cloak, he glances at the figurine on the oaken table and smiles.

 "My old friend, I hope the night was neither too cold nor too lonely for you," the young man says to figurine as he puts his cloak down on the chairs.

 The figurine responds with a steady stance and an eternal silence as he as always has for the last several years.

 The young man realizes and quickly adds, "Nay, of course not, with your yellow fur and your worn suit, the night's breeze might as well just been a welcoming gust of fresh air."

 The young man sighs dishearten as he walks over to the doors and pushes it shut.

 Resting his tired body on the bed he confesses to the figurine, "But Baron, another day has gone by and I again failed to find even a clue that would lead us to the Baroness."

 The young man pauses but continues on, "But do not despair, I will not break my vow. I will continue searching for her till the day I can no longer walk the world."

    With a yawn, the young man quickly drifts off to the dream world on the bed. With his sharp cat ears and long whiskers, the Baron stands guard as the young man sleeps snuggly on the bed. For how many centuries that he has stood staring into the void, even he has lost count. Yet the day when the craftsman put the final touch on his emerald green eyes, remains a sharp image in his mind. Back in the days when magic was still in abundance, even craftsmen learned to gather the powers of magic to create their finest works. This particular artisan was still young and had not mastered the art of weaving magic flawlessly into his creations. However, the young craftsman knew the Baron would be lonely in the world thus another cat-figurine was created. Together, the Baron and the Baroness stood side by side, hand in hand, for countless years on the shelves of the store as the young craftsman was unwilling to separate the pair. Yet the dreaded day came, it was as though the Baron and the Baroness were cursed to separate from each other. Within a day's time, the village was left in rubbles. When the craftsman finally returned to search for his beloved creations, only the Baron remained under a large wooden pillar. Frantic, together they searched through the debris yet there was not even a sign of whereabouts of the Baroness. With his last bit of magic, he restored the Baron. Salvaging what he can, the craftsman left the village with the Baron in hand.

    A gentle knock on the door breaks the morning silence in the hut. A small child's eye peers into the room as the door opens just enough for his head for poke through. The young man squirms in his bed but appears to be fast asleep. Tip-toeing into the room, the small child reaches underneath the covers and tugs at the young man.

 "Unca West, unca West," the child whispers into his ears.

 Uncaring for the world, West turns his head the other way and continues to sleep.

 "UNCLE WEST!" the child screams loudly.

    The young man jumps out of his bed in a flash and reaches for his sword on the oaken table. Visibly shaken, he holds his sword out in front of him ready for battle. Seeing that it is merely a village child, he calms himself and places the sword back onto the table.

 "Don't do that!" the young man says, "You scared me there."

 "I'm sowry," the young child says as he scuffles his feet playfully in the dirt, "I just wanted to play wit you."

 "Uncle West is very tired," the tired young man said. West reaches for a toy wagon lying underneath the bed.

 "Here, take this. Uncle West will play with you later."

    Reaching into his pockets, a small child produces an exact duplicate of the toy wagon and waves it before him playfully. The child skips out the doors and closes it behind him.

 Shaking his head, West rests his head on the pillow and says, "How many years has it been Baron? Since we met in that shop?"

 Staring at the ceiling for a moment, West falls asleep and silence surrounds the hut once again.