Ever since Toby lost what he cherished most, he refused to enter his kennel. Now he slept out on the bare ground, ate almost nothing, and barely acknowledged his one remaining friend, Simon…

Ever since Charlie lost what he cherished most, he never set foot in his kennel again. Now he slept on the bare earth, barely touched his food, and hardly acknowledged his only remaining friend, Simon

Another November came around. With each passing day, the chill deepened, skies heavy with slate-grey clouds, and people wrapped themselves tightly in thick, woollen coats and scarves. Winters presence lingered in the air, and Charlie knew it wouldnt be long before the first snow fell.

I do wonder when theyll line my kennel with fresh straw, the old dog thought, stretched out on the cold, damp ground. Ive a decent coat, but the nights have begun to bite right through me

He watched with lazy indifference as the porters hurried back and forth, hauling boxes into hulking lorries belching foul-smelling exhaust. The old watchdog attracted no attention at all.

What are you lounging about for? a voice called out. One of the security guards had come out for a smoke and glared down at Charlie. Youre here to guard the warehouse, not laze around like some pampered mutt. Useless! He spat viciously, then strode off. His name was Victor, and hed disliked Charlie for as long as anyone could rememberever since the dog was just a scrappy pup.

Soon, a dark green car pulled up near the warehouse. At once, Charlie jumped to his feet.

Hullo, old chap, greeted a man in a flat cap with stubble across his cheeks. Come to warm you up, havent I?

This was Simon, Charlies favourite and kindest security guard. Simon never failed to greet him with a gentle word or a tasty treat. Even on his day off, he hadnt forgotten the dog; hed brought straw to keep him from freezing.

Simon carefully stuffed the kennel with fresh, warm straw, fetched a bowl of hot porridge and beef from the car, and waited as Charlie ate every last bit. Only after collecting the empty bowl to wash did he finally leave.

Charlie was alone once more. He found some comfort in the approaching nightsleep provided a brief escape from the loneliness that rarely left his side.

By nightfall, Charlie padded over to his kennel. He was just about to crawl inside when he froze.

From deep within the straw glinted two vivid emerald eyes. A menacing hiss cut through the silence.

Charlie gazed at the uninvited guest with his usual calm. Before him sat a skinny black cat, her enormous eyes shining with suspicion and warning.

Keep away. Dont try me! her glare seemed to say.

Despite her bristling demeanour, Charlie was glad of the company.

Its a bit tight for the two of us, but well manage, he decided with optimism.

He stepped forwardand a little black paw, claws gleaming sharp as sabres, lashed the air.

Shhhhhhh! the cat warned, unmoved by his gentle approach.

All right, Ill just sleep outside then, Charlie thought, settling himself by the kennels entrance.

Morning brought hunger and the hope of breakfast. Turning to the kennel, Charlie saw the cat curled in deep, peaceful sleep.

How lovely she looks, he thought.

Victor emerged from the guards hut looking rumpled and surly. He tossed Charlie a handful of scraps, not caring whether the food was fit for a dog. By rights, Charlie should have received proper meals, but Victor never bothered.

Charlie sniffed the leftovers and caught a faint, unfamiliar scent.

The cat! She was sitting boldly nearby, gnawing contentedly on a bit of sausage skin, as if she belonged there.

Charlie was glad he could feed her, especially since she was so scrawny.

Noticing his gaze, the cat tensed, ready for a fight. Charlie simply munched his bread, watching her with gentle curiosity.

Why is she so angry? Or maybe shed like some bread too? he wondered, awkwardly offering a piece with his paw.

Throughout the day, they sized each other upthe cat wary and mistrustful, Charlie only kind and interested.

That evening, as Victor ended his shift, he again tossed Charlie a few scraps. The cat pounced on the food at once.

Well, whats this? A wicked one, are you? the guard recoiled in disgust. Sling yer hook! Off with you! The cat darted behind Charlie, who, surprised at first, quickly stood his ground. His hackles rose, teeth bared, eyes hard.

Victor sneered and stalked off. The new guard who arrived later didnt even glance their way.

The cat shot Charlie a brief, reserved look, almost grateful. And Charlie mused, Victor called her a wicked one Is that a name? Perhaps thats what Ill call her

So Charlie decided she would be called Wicked.

The frost soon set in, and Wicked curled once more into the straw. Charlie didnt want to disturb her but peeked inside the kennel anyway.

She met his bashful gaze, puzzling over how a dog could be so gentle. But she shifted, allowing him room to lie beside her.

All night they slept pressed close together, as peacefully as either had known.

From then on, Charlie and Wicked were inseparable. They ate, slept, and communicated in their animal ways, side by side.

When Simon first saw the cat snuggled up to Charlie, he was astonished. Such a tiny, frail little thing with no fear around a big watch dog. But soon, he understood: animals had their own sort of lovea love that knew no bounds.

Simon took Wicked under his wing. He took her to the vet, brushed her tangled fur, and made sure she had food. Within weeks, Wickeds coat shone and she grew stronger.

Only Victor persisted in tormenting them. Hed convinced himself that black cats brought trouble, and was set on making her disappear.

One day, he even tried to poison her, but Charlie detected the odd smell and put a stop to ithe was always vigilant.

One especially bitter night, the dog and cat lay together in the kennel. Charlie licked another of Wickeds countless scratchesshe always seemed to go getting herself in trouble.

Suddenly, both their noses twitched. A strange scent filled the air

Charlie burst out and barked with all he hadFire! Flames flickered at the warehouse.

Victor rushed out from the hut, furious, darting about in panic. He patted his pocketsno phone.

Wicked yowled sharply. The guard turned to see her sitting by his fallen mobile.

Filthy witch! Victor snapped, shoving her aside and snatching up his phone to call the fire brigade.

Charlie ran to his friend. She limped away from the acrid smoke, and the pair took shelter in the bushes, waiting for the flames to die.

After the blaze was out, Victor, exhausted, glared hatred at the cat as he left.

The next evening, Charlie overheard voices near the guard post:

Im telling you, shes nothing but trouble. Did you see her eyes? Proper witch, that one! Victor insisted.

So what do you propose? someone replied, indifferent.

Dump her in the woods, thats what.

Charlie froze, a hot pain twisting his heart. He pressed close to Wicked, who was fast asleep.

Are you mad? Shell never survive out there! Simon protested.

I couldnt care less! Wasnt the fire enough?

I dunno, mate, black cats do bring misfortune someone muttered.

No ones dumping her anywhere, Simon snapped, walking away.

Morning came. Charlie woke and stretched, instinctively reaching for Wicked.

But she was gone.

He scratched through the strawnothing. Bolted outside, circled the yard, barking hoarsely.

A black smudge flickered near the huthe rushed over.

Just a plastic bag, rustling on the wind.

The door slammed open.

Whats all this fuss? Looking for your little pal? Victor oozed mockery. Shes not here anymore. Off somewhere else to cause bother.

Charlie gazed at him, hoping for a different answer.

Actually Shes got nothing left to cause. Shell be dead in the woods soon, if she isnt already.

No sound escaped Charlie. Not even a cry; the pain was locked deep inside.

The first snow fell. Big white flakes gently settled atop the still dog.

From the day he lost the one thing dearest to him, Charlie never entered his kennel again. He slept on the bare earth, hardly touching his food, and ignored even Simons gentle words.

Charlie, shes in a better place now, you know. Shes warm and safe. Do you believe me? Simon whispered softly, crouching beside him, stroking his fur.

I want to go to her. Let me go, please

The morning before, Charlie had overheard strangers talking about him like he was already gone. They said he was too old, no use anymore. The warehouse needed a new, young dog and it was time for him to go

He didnt remember how their conversation ended. It didnt matter. Nothing did, except one thing.

The snow continued, falling endlessly. The cold flakes coated his back, his muzzle, his paws. Gradually, Charlie was buried beneath a blanket of white. He closed his eyes slowly.

Perhaps this time, I wont have to open them again. I dont want to open them ever again was his last thought as darkness took him.

The world faded. Charlie barely felt the wind or the smells around him. And then, out of the darkness, a familiar voice called:

Come on, mate. Wake up. Time to get moving. Youre coming with me.

Everything after blurred: the warmth of Simons car, the soft seat beneath him, the jostling ride down winding lanes, new smells drifting in through the cracked window.

Sadness had sapped his strength, leaving him frail and aching. Soon he drifted into a deep sleep, the gentle hum of the radio soothing him.

Hours later, they arrived. Simon helped Charlie out and guided him up to a warm cottage.

Youll live with me now, my friend.

Charlie barely cared. But he tried to muster some joy, not wanting to disappoint his friend. His attempt was unconvincing, but Simon understood all the same.

Never mind, youll seethings will look up right soon, Simon promised, opening the door.

The moment they crossed the threshold, Charlie perked up. That scenthed know it anywhere.

His suspicions were confirmed in an instant.

From the windowsill, a tuft of pitch black fur leapt down and scurried straight towards him. Before she even reached him, Charlie knew: Wicked.

Told you she was someplace good, didnt I? Simon beamed. Did you really think Id let those lot dump your friend in the woods?

But the dog and the cat had no time for him just yet. There was so much to say.

When they finished talking in their secret language, curled together on the rug, Charlie mused: what did wicked even mean, really?

He almost asked her, but thought better of it. What did it matter? Wicked was his friend. And that was all that mattered.