In the deep pocket of her fall coat, she kept a small, felted trinket that she’d sewn many years before with fabric scraps and red string. It was a poor imitation of a rodent, all bright colors and awkward seams that created a lopsided body nothing like the scampering little pests that had plagued her flat above the Chinese takeaway restaurant on Eighth St. in muggle London when she first moved in—they would undoubtedly return now.
Throughout her days she found herself reaching for the toy, brushing her thumb over the pilled body, pinching the fraying yellow string dangling out its end as a tail.
The practice helped to comfort her at times she remembered what had happened to the great, orange feline owner of the plaything.
It had only been a week since his unexpected passing and her chest still ached as she remembered finding him in the dark flat after work, lithe body sprawled unceremoniously near the radiator. She’d held onto him for hours before even bothering to weep or investigate or anything.
The after-hours veterinarian nine trolley stops over told her that it sometimes happened with older cats—and Merlin knew her cat was old.
He offered to perform an autopsy if she’d like—she didn’t.
Tucking her nose down into the thick mohair scarf wrapped around her neck, she pressed on from the ferry station, keeping near the storefronts in an attempt to keep warm in the frigid wind. Snow was in the forecast—it would be the first of the season. Her gloveless hands were shoved deep in her pockets now but it did little to chase the numbness of her reddened fingers away, and she could be bothered to cast a charm. The only respite she found was her frequented shortcut between streets to cut over to her flat quicker.
In said shortcut, a shadow dashed along the building and she stopped, looking around, her stiff bones curling around the smooth wood buried in her extended pockets.
Except for the slight howl of the wind and the rubbish skittering in the alleyway, little else made noise and nothing noticeable caught her eye.
Playing off the apparition, she continued her way home—only to see the shadow dash along the wall again.
She stopped for a second time, peering around a pile of crates stacked along the wall near a restaurant’s back door, and in the corner they made with the bricks, spotted a small black clump blinking up at her.
Eyes widening, she carefully approached the kitten, cooing at it in a soft tone just louder than the wind. Its body tensed, readying to jump away when she remembered the trinket in her pocket. Lifting it out, she dangled it in the face of the kitten, luring it into the open.
With a great leap, it flew at the toy, latching on with claws. She managed to scoop it into her arms and tuck it into her coat in one go. Petting down its unruly black fur as it chewed and gnawed at the colorful mouse, seeming content in its capture, she cradled it close and continued their walk home.