Oh yes. Yes-yes-yes. It was working. This was going so much better than expected. Thick bubbles, a somewhat acrid smell, and heavy steam that seemed to have a mind of its own. Watching the witch brew her potions had paid off. The others said he was a fool trying to figure out what she was doing. Fool? He laughed.
Then stopped. Covered his mouth and cowered. Bah, damn that primal survival instinct turning him into a whimpering pest. The witch and her damn cat where gone. Would be gone for another day. There was nothing to fear. He threw his arms wide and laughed, “It’s working!”
The other mice watched Harold from a safe distance. What a reckless nut. Thought he could actually concoct a potion that would…What?
“Harold, psst,” Benny tried to get his pal’s attention with a harsh whisper. “Hey, Harold.” Harold, standing on the caldron’s edge, turned. “Think you’ve made enough?” Benny asked. He was sitting on the entrance steps, watching his friend with a mix of horror and stupefaction. “The whole thing is full. It’s one cat. Not an army.”
Harold turned back. He grabbed the stirring paddle and ran laps around the caldron, mixing the potion. “This way…I’ll be sure…I have…Enough.” He spoke each time he made a lap and passed by Benny. He began to snicker. Oh yes, o-o-oh yes. The damn cat wouldn’t know what hit her. If the potion did anything to cats like Harold had seen it do to the bird and toad, the cat would no longer be a threat. Harold filled a vial with the brew and his eyes grew wide with delight. That looked perfect. For the first time in his life he looked forward to seeing the cat.