Ever since Tosh had his most treasured possession taken from him, he never set paw inside his kennel again. Now he sleeps on the bare ground, barely eats, and no longer responds to the only friend he has left—Sergey…

Ever since Toby lost what he cherished most, he hadnt set foot in his kennel. Instead, he slept out on the bare earth. He hardly touched his meals, and didnt stir when the only friend he had leftSimoncalled to him.

November had come again. With each passing day, the chill bit deeper, heavy clouds hanging over Manchester like steel. People rushed past in thick wool coats and scarves while the air hinted at the inevitability of winter. Toby understood it wouldnt be long before the first snow.

I wonder when someone will fill my kennel with warm straw. Ive got plenty of fur, but the cold creeps in at night, down to my bones mused the old dog as he stretched out on the damp ground.

He watched the workers load boxes into clunky lorries, gruff men shuffling in and out of the warehouse, the smell of diesel thick in the air. To them, Toby was invisible, an old relic they barely noticed.

What are you doing lying about? snapped a voice.

The security guardMartinemerged from his hut for a smoke. You werent hired to lounge around like some pampered lapdog, mate! Shift yourself! Martin spat nearby and stomped off. He had disliked Toby since the dog was just a bundle of fur, for no reason other than his own sour mood.

A dark green car pulled in by the warehouse. Instantly, Toby was on his feet.

Alright, lad, came the warm voice of a man in a flat cap, stubble bristling on his cheeks. Come to get you sorted for winter.

It was SimonTobys favourite, the only one who spoke a kind word and always brought a treat. Even on his day off, Simon didnt forget Toby; he had brought straw to keep him warm.

Simon packed fresh, fragrant straw into the kennel, then fetched a bowl of steaming porridge with bits of beef. He watched, waiting for Toby to finish every last bite, before taking the bowl to wash and heading off.

Toby was alone again. He was glad night was comingit was easier to forget the ache of loneliness in sleep, a companion now for almost his whole life.

As evening deepened, Toby padded to the kennel. He was about to step inside when he stopped dead.

Two bright emerald eyes glowed from the deepest straw. A menacing hiss cut through the dark.

He looked at the uninvited guest, not a hint of malice in his gaze. Before him crouched a scraggly black cat, her eyes huge with warning:

Dont even think about it. I dont play gamesget lost.

Despite her fierce look, Toby felt something close to joy.

Its cramped, but theres room for two, he decided with hopeful optimism.

He took a gentle step. The air sang as the cat swiped, her claws sharp as little sabres.

Hssssss! she spat, warning clear.

Alright, alright, Ill sleep outside tonight, Toby conceded, settling mournfully by his own front door.

Early morning came and Toby awoke, hungry as always for breakfast. He turned his head: the cat slept, curled up like a shadow in the straw.

Shes actually rather sweet

Martin trudged out, eyes bleary, and tossed Toby some leftover scraps before disappearing again.

By rights, Toby should have had proper food, but Martin never bothered. He just chucked whatever was left over, potato peels and old crusts. Sometimes Tobys belly ached for days after. But there was no one to complain to.

As he nosed the scraps, he caught a new scentcat. The black cat was right there, gnawing on an old bit of sausage skin as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Toby was oddly glad to be sharing, especially with someone so thin and lost.

Noticing his stare, the cat bristled, ready to pounce. Toby simply chewed his dry bread, curious and calm.

Why is she so cross? Maybe she wants my bread too, he wondered, shyly pushing his chunk toward her.

All day, they watched each other. The cats gaze was wary and cold, Tobys full of awkward kindness.

That evening, as Martin finished his shift, he tossed Toby more scraps. The cat darted in straightaway.

Oi! Whats this? Some sort of witch, are you? Get away! Shoo! Martin yelled.

The cat dashed behind Toby. He hesitated only a second before bristling, teeth bared, hackles up, eyes fierce with defiance.

Martin snorted in disgust and stomped off. The next guard paid no mind to the animals at all.

The cat glanced up, wary but grateful. Toby wondered:

Martin called her Witch Is that a name? Hmm. Guess thats what shes called now.

He decidedthe cat would be called Witch.

The cold deepened. Witch returned to the nest of straw each night. Toby didnt want to disturb her but poked his nose in anyway. She eyed him uncertainly, her expression almost questioning how a dog could be so gentle. She shifted aside and let him squeeze in.

All night they slept pressed together. Toby had never known rest so peaceful.

From then on, Toby and Witch were never apart. They ate together, slept together, and shared silent conversations only they understood.

When Simon first saw Witch curled up with Toby, he couldnt believe itthis scrawny little cat, not frightened of the big guard dog! But soon he realised: animals know love. Love, after all, doesnt care about size.

Simon began caring for Witch tootook her to the vet, brushed her tangled fur, and fed her properly. Within weeks, she was stronger.

Only Martin spoiled the peace. He convinced himself the black cat brought bad luck, and set out to rid the warehouse of her.

Once, he even tried to poison her, but Toby sniffed something odd and kept Witch awayToby was always watchful for his friend.

One bitter night, curled up together, Toby was gently licking a new scratch on Witchs sideshe was always slipping off and getting into trouble somewherewhen both their noses twitched: something burning.

Toby burst from the kennel and barked with all his might. Smoke was pouring from the warehouseit was on fire!

Martin lurched from the hut, cursing and flailing as the building blazed. He fumbled uselessly in his pocketshis phone was missing.

Witch let out a long, insistent meow. Martin spun roundthere she was, next to his lost mobile.

Filthy witch! He kicked her aside, grabbed his phone, and called the fire brigade.

Toby rushed to Witch. She limped away from the smoke, and they hid together in undergrowth while the fire was fought.

Martin shot a hateful glare at the cat as he slouched home, exhausted and furious.

The next evening, as dusk fell, Toby overheard voices by the security hut:

That cats nothing but trouble. Did you see her eyes? Shes a proper witch, Im telling you! Martin insisted.

So what are you saying? someone replied, indifferently.

Take her out to the woodsproblem solved.

Toby froze, heart clenching in dread, and pressed himself to Witch as she slept.

Have you lost your mind? She wouldnt survive five minutes out there! Simon retorted.

I dont care. Didnt she bring enough bad luck with that fire?

You know, black cats really are considered unlucky someone else muttered.

No ones dumping her anywhere. Dont be ridiculous, Simon snapped and walked away.

Morning came. Toby stretched, yawning, and reached instinctively for Witch, curled up by his side.

She wasnt there.

He nosed madly through the straw. Nothing. He burst out, searching wildly, whimpering in despair.

A black shape darted by the storage hut. Toby rushed over.

It was only an empty carrier bag, scraping in the wind.

The door banged open.

What dyou want? Looking for your friend? Martin sneered. No sign of her now. Shes gone off elsewhere.

Toby stared, searching for hope in Martins stony face.

Actually, she wont be bothering anyone. Give it a day or two and shell have frozen to death in the woodsif she hasnt already, Martin added, voice flat.

Toby said nothing. Even his howl of grief stuck, lodged inside.

The first snow began to fall. Fat flakes settled slowly on the motionless dog.

Ever since they took his greatest treasure, Toby never entered the kennel. He slept on the frozen ground, nearly stopped eating, and barely acknowledged even Simon.

Toby, shes in a better place now, honestly. Shes safe and warm, I promise. Do you believe me? Simons voice was gentle as he knelt, stroking Tobys tired head.

I want to go there, too. I want to see my Witch. Can I go? Toby wished with all his heart.

He remembered snippets of conversation from strangers the morning before. They stood nearby, talking as though he were a piece of broken furniture, not a living soul. Said he was too old, no good anymore. The warehouse needed a new, young dog. Toby would be sent packing soon

He didnt care how it ended. Nothing mattered now except this ache in his chest.

Snow fell steadily, a cold white blanket drawing across his fur. Slowly, Toby closed his eyes.

What if I never open them again? I dont want to was his last thought as he slipped into sleep.

The world faded. All sound dulled. Toby almost stopped feeling his body, didnt notice the scents or the wind. Then, through the thickening silence, a voice broke through:

Wake up, old chap. Up you get! Youre coming with me.

The rest came in flashes: Simons warm car, the soft seat, the bumpy ride along country lanes, the strange new smells curling through the window.

Grief had made Toby weak. He drifted into a deep sleep on the backseat, the hum of the radio soothing him into oblivion.

Hours later, they stopped. Simon helped him out, steadying him as they walked to the door of a cottage.

Youll live with me now, old friend.

Toby barely cared. But he tried to muster a wag, not to disappoint the kind man. It came out stiff and awkward. But Simon understood without need for words.

Come on inwarm up, youll feel better in no time, Simon winked, pushing open the door.

As soon as Toby stepped into the hallway, his ears pricked up. That scenthe knew it better than anything. Impossible to mistake!

The thought was confirmed in a heartbeat.

A cloud of black fur leapt from the windowsill and padded quickly to him. Before she reached him, Toby already knewit was her. His Witch!

Told you she was in a better place, didnt I? Simon smiled. Did you really think Id let those idiots toss her out in the woods?

But just then, Toby and Witch had far too much to say, in the silent language only they understood.

When at last both had spoken all their silent words and curled up to rest, Toby found himself wondering: what did witch truly mean?

He almost asked his friend. But what did it matter? Witch was his companion; that was all hed ever needed to know.