On the far edge of his estate, the sorcerer kept chickens.

He had a fondness for boiled eggs and soldiers in the morning and insisted Cathy collected fresh eggs every day, just as the sun lifted above the horizon.

So she was up early.

Cathy grabbed a basket from the kitchen cupboard and a bottle full of water and strolled outside to the gardens.

She crossed the damp lawns, past the large ornamental pond with its huge, open-mouthed fish fountain, and on through the walled garden. Only stopping to admire the vast array of roses one of Hex's previous servants had planted. And from there, she headed towards the treeline, where the chickens lived.

"Morning," Tibbles called to her, bounding across the grass.

"I haven't seen you for a while," she called back, swinging the basket backwards and forwards. It had been five days since the cat last dropped by for breakfast and Cathy worried she may not see her again.

"I've been busy bothering the family over the hill. They have the most delicious scraps in their bins. But this morning, they'd placed rocks on the bin lids. I couldn't open them and I'm starving." Tibbles caught up to her.

"Do you want something to eat?"

"Yes, please."

"If you help me collect the eggs, I'll make you breakfast," Cathy suggested, grateful for any help.

"You have a deal."

The chickens clucked at the sight of Tibbles. And protested even louder when Cathy opened the door to their coop.

  "Quiet chickens. Tibbles won't hurt you," Cathy grumbled, tipping corn onto the ground and pouring the fresh water into their bowls. "Will you, Tibbles?"

"Not today." Tibbles grinned, showing every one of her sharp teeth. "Move!" she ordered, trying to collect the eggs from under a hen.

  The chicken ruffled her feathers and refused to move.

"Hand over that egg or I'll..." Tibbles yelled, losing patience with the hen. Her empty tummy growled.

The chicken puffed up her chest and shook her head.

"Chickens... please. If you don't give us your eggs, Hex will come down here," Cathy said.

All the chickens stopped clucking at the mention of Hex and stepped aside. They remembered the last time they'd refused to surrender their eggs.

Hex had stormed down to their coop, grabbed poor Henrietta and Dorothy, stuffed them in a brown sack and taken them back up to his house. They'd never returned.

After collecting the eggs, Tibbles and Cathy walked side-by-side to the house.

"So how's life treating you?" Tibbles asked, looking at Cathy sideways.

"It's... fine."

"You don't sound so sure. What's Hex up to these days?"

"Oh, you know Hex," Cathy said, shrugging.

"Fortunately, I don't. I only know the things I hear."

"He's not so bad. If you have something, he wants."

"What do you have that he wants?" Tibbles asked, her long white whiskers twitching.

"I helped him with a problem he couldn't solve."

Cathy felt for her necklace. She'd decided it was too pretty not to wear it. And besides, she'd earned it.

"What is that?" Tibbles asked, pointing at Cathy's neck with her paw.

"Hex gave it to me."

"How kind of him," the cat said. "It must've been a big problem for Hex to be so generous."

"It was," Cathy replied, walking into the house.

Tibbles dithered by the kitchen door.

"I just remembered, I have somewhere to be. Rain check."

And without another word, Tibbles left.

Cathy looked outside in every direction. There was no sign of Tibbles. How strange. Where did she go?

The bell from the dining room rang to signal Hex was waiting for his breakfast.

                                                                        *

Cathy hurried into the room with a tray full of food and Hex's favourite newspaper tucked under her arm.

"Running late this morning?" Hex asked, snatching the newspaper from her.

"The chickens were being difficult, again."

"Really?" Hex paused for a moment before opening his paper. "I'll pay the hens a visit later." He licked his finger and flicked over the pages of the paper.

Cathy wished she'd kept quiet.

"Big day today," Hex announced, picking up his coffee cup and taking a sip.

"Why?"

"Today we build our house of sweets." Hex lowered his cup and stared at her.

"We?" Cathy hadn't missed the implication that she would be helping.

"Ok. You got me. I meant to say, today you build our house of sweets." Hex continued scanning the newspaper with a contented grin. He was reading his favourite pages... the obituaries.

"I... How?" Cathy's tummy fluttered with nerves.

"Magic, girl. You wanted to learn, so I'm going to teach you. Today is your first lesson. Now run along and change. I've left you a set of overalls on your bed."

Hex put down his paper and picked up his spoon. Tapping the top of his boiled egg, he muttered under his breath about the hens never learning their lesson.

Cathy left the dining room and went to her bedroom.