Obelix trudged through the snow, Dogmatix held cupped in his hands, using his fingers to block the frigid wind from the pup fur covered skin. It was well past midnight; probably closer to morning, but still dark enough to make it 'bedtime' in the large Gaul's mind. Obelix had grown very tired. Sleep was something he needed just as badly as food. Without it, he grew drowsy, and his body refused to function as well as it usually did. So, it was, by this time, that he had reached a very one-minded state. Bed. Sleep. Comfort. And he would not be content until he obtained all three.

Even so, he was still perfectly aware of the young man following behind him. Itylus was his name, though how Obelix remembered that was a wonder, even to himself. The fellow was trailing slowly, taking long strides that still had to work hard to keep up with the large Gaul's own. Obelix slowed his steps, giving the stranger a chance to catch up.

Itylus was another man strongly built, much like Lycurgus, though, maybe not as impressively. He had long, dark hair, to his shoulders, in a fashion that greatly reminded Obelix of the Egyptians. But the hair was not corded, it was straight and fine, and, unlike the Egyptians, his face was covered in a short, well-trimmed beard. While he was not bare-chested, his muscles were clearly defined beneath the light fabric he wore. He was healthy, and strong for what looked like years of training or hard labor.

Obelix started walking again as the man made it to his side. Itylus had been chosen to spend the night with Obelix. He had been the only one left, and Obelix, being the kind-hearted soul he was, had been thrilled to have the company. The travelers had been divided up according by family. Of the twelve men, seven were married. Those who had children were not separated. Fulliautomatix was able to house a man, his wife, and their young son. Cacofonix had taken in a young man, just about his age. Hopefully, he was a music lover. Unhygienix crammed a family of four into his home; a man, his wife, and their two sons. Getafix housed a man and wife, a slightly older couple, though not very much older than Soporifix, and still very healthy and well-built. Soporifix himself had offered his home to another family of four, again, with two sons. Asterix housed a middle-aged fellow, while Vitalstitistix, bless his soul, housed three couples, one of them being Lycurgus and Agafya. The remaining two men had been sent to spend the night with a few other villagers.

That left Obelix with Itylus.

Obelix wished he was a more smiley sort. He had always enjoyed a bit of humor, but this man was, by far, the sternest, most boring individual he had ever had the misfortune to meet. Oh well. Could have been worse. At least he wasn't as imposing as Lycurgus. The leader of these strangers unnerved Obelix somehow. He couldn't place the reason, but he didn't fully trust the man. But, again, just as Getafix had said, maybe he, like Asterix, was letting their past experience with Mastix taint his opinion of these visitors. Obelix promptly pushed the feeling aside.

They reached the menhir deliveryman's cottage just as the Eastern sky was beginning to lighten with a pale. bluish glow. Perhaps three hours remained of the night. With a creak, Obelix opened the weathered door and went in. After several moments of feeling about blindly, he located the hearth and blew on it to reignite the embers. The room was illuminated in a warm glow just as Itylus moved in behind him.

Obelix set Dogmatix down, turning to face his guest. Spreading his arms wide, he indicated his humble abode. "Well, this is it. It's not much to look at, I suppose, but I like it. It belonged to my parents, and they passed it on to me when they left the village."

Itylus let his eyes wander over the furnishings, which, in all honesty, wasn't much. Obelix had never been much for the finer things, and had settled for the bare necessities. Over the years, he had found that he needed things of strength and sturdiness. Normal furniture would not hold his weight. Finding only a few who could make things custom to his size, Obelix had worked on many of the items himself. He was by no means a craftsman, being more used to working with stone, but he could do in a pinch. There was a table, and a stool, built large enough to handle his girth and height. There was the fireplace, again, quite large, with a enormous cauldron for stews and soups. There were several stone crafts laying about; odd little things that were still in the midst of creation. But, perhaps, the oddest thing present was the extensive collection of helmets that seemed to pile up in every available corner. Itylus raised an eyebrow in question.

"Oh, that's just a hobby," Obelix explained, catching his meaning by the odd look that had crossed his face. "Just, you know, something to pass the time. My father used to do it. Got me started on it."

"Where do you get them?" Itylus asked, picking one particularly dented helm and examining it.

Obelix blinked. These were the first words his guest had spoken to him yet. The Gaul was slightly thrown off by how deep and strong the young man's voice was. "Oh, ah, here and there. Whenever we run into the Romans. We enjoy a good punch up every now and then, and the Romans are very good at obliging." He yawned, missing the look of confusion that crossed Itylus's face. Waddling over to the corner, Obelix pushed an assortment of helmets aside, revealing a dusty, old cot beneath them. It didn't have any sheets, and the mattress itself had patches of straw sticking out of it at odd angles. But, it wasn't too filthy, just unused. "This is the only bed I've got, but, once I fetch you some blankets, it should do alright."

Itylus nodded, seeming not to care about the dust. "It will serve me well."

"You talk funny."

The traveler actually looked offended. "Excuse me?"

"All of you," Obelix clarified, hoping he wasn't being rude. "You all talk so stern and serious. Like the Druids do...but not quite. Is that how they speak were you come from?"

Itylus blinked again. "I suppose."

"And where are you from?"

Instantly the man's barriers were up. He seemed to stiffen, as though the friendly conversation had all at once become an interrogation. What little emotion that had slipped into his expression was gone in an instant, replaced by a thin mouth and sharp eyes. "Far from here."

"Yes, yes; but where?"

"I am not obliged to say."

"Oh." Obelix looked thoroughly disappointed. More out of something to do than anything, he turned to a large, rock sculpture at his side. "Well, I'll go get your blankets then. You'll be needing a little more leg room, so I'll set this outside." With that, he reached forward and lifted the structure with hardly any effort. He hadn't even considered the surprise that his action might give a stranger. He was just so used to using his strength without hesitation.

Itylus's mouth hung open in shock, his eyes growing large. It wasn't until Obelix had left and returned that he found his voice. "You...You picked that boulder up as if it were nothing but a pebble!" he declared. He looked the Gaul up and down, taking his large stomach and girth. Obelix looked strong, and Itylus had expected him to be so, but this...this was different. This went beyond normal strength.

Obelix paused at his ladder, on his way up to grab some sheets from the loft above. "Yes. I know. I do it all the time."

"But, that takes enormous strength!"

Obelix nodded in agreement, starting up the ladder, which groaned under his weight. His voice came from above, slightly muffled by the rafters. "I'm pretty strong, I guess. I sometimes forget that everyone else can't lift the same stuff I can." He started back down with a bundle of fabric tucked under one arm. He reached the bottom, handing them to the still stunned Itylus. "If it bothers you, I'll try to remember not to do it in front of you."

"No, no," the traveler mumbled, "Not at all. It is just, I have never met a man who could move something so effortlessly. Even Lycurgus cannot do what you have done, and, until now, he was the strongest man I have ever come across."

Obelix chuckled. "Well, he'll meet his match here."

Itylus had seen enough of Obelix's character to know the Gaul was not speaking of himself. Obelix was not the boastful type. "You mean, there are others in this village who equal you in strength?!" he cried. He was a different person from the stern, boring fellow who had followed the red-haired Gaul through the snow. Eyes wide, he seemed intent on this one subject and this one subject only. Answers were what he wanted.

"Sure. All of us are. Though, not quite like me. The others are normal most of the time, but after they take the Ma-" Obelix froze, his face actually turning rather pale. He hadn't realized how much he had been talking. Asterix had warned him, time and again, never to give too much information to strangers, especially when it came to the Magic Potion. Mastix had learned of it, and that had caused them great misfortune. Asterix's gift of the Solas Anam was even more important when it came to keeping secrets. But the problem was, Obelix had never been very good at keeping secrets. He was lucky to have caught himself in time. As it was, he might have said too much. Thankfully, Itylus didn't seem to catch his sudden halt in conversation.

"All of you? But, your warrior?"

Obelix stiffened. "Asterix. Yes?"

"Is he strong as well?"

Well, he had already given that part away. No harm in answering. "Of course," Obelix replied. "And he's very smart. Top of class when we were little." That was true. That information was harmless enough. Asterix had helped Obelix back then, with school. Obelix had struggled through those years, but with the blond Gaul's help, the times had seemed far less painful. Asterix was smart, and, if they stuck around long enough, these strangers would be sure to discover that on their own.

Itylus seemed puzzled. "But he's so...small."

Obelix again nodded in agreement. "He is, but there's a lot more to him then meets the eye. He's kind, and honest, and brave, and-" And a Solas Anam. He was talking too much again. Suddenly, he didn't like the man asking him questions about his best friend. Asterix was small, yes. Obelix sometimes forgot that. He was small and, without the potion, susceptible to danger. He did not want Asterix in danger again. Never again. Lowering his eyes, Obelix changed the subject. "Let's go to bed." Bending down, he lifted Dogmatix in his arms. He placed the pup in the corner, where several blankets serves as the dog's bed. "If you need anything, just call," he informed Itylus, and with that, he climbed the ladder once more, leaving his guest down below. The sun was rising, and sleep was calling to him.

He fell asleep almost before his head even hit the pillow.


Pain.

Pain so terrible, that it blocked all other senses. Even the sense of feeling was numb. Numb and cold and cruel. As if heartless, it ripped and tore, causing agony that reached far, far inside.

It got worse.

His breathing was being cut off. The burn in his lungs were almost more than he could stand. But worse was the evil presence. That dark entity without mercy, forcing its way inside of him. Reaching inside to grasp with cold, clawed magic.

He couldn't let that monster take it! He couldn't!

But it was useless. There was nothing to do. Nothing, but writhe in the terrible pain. Things began to grow darker. Darker.

He knew he was dying...

With a ragged gasp, Asterix broke free from his nightmare, bolting upright, causing the straw mattress to rustle sharply. Wild eyes took in the lightening dawn that crept through the window, covered by a thick blanket though it was. Asterix panted, the sheeting bunched up around his middle, trying to calm his pounding heart. He lay one hand over his chest, willing the loud beats to quiet themselves, while his other hand went to his head, trying to ease his troubled mind. It took far longer than he liked, but finally he managed to convince his panicked body that it had all been a dream. Nothing more than a nightmare.

And how he hated those nightmares.

With a rare sense of despair sweeping over him, Asterix let his face fall into his hands. He wouldn't cry. No, he was past crying over this. This was an ache, a wish, that his memories would all just disappear into the dark corners of his mind and stay there. But instead, they carried over into the night, escaping his subconscious while he slept.

"Why does this keep happening?" he whispered hoarsely to himself in the breaking darkness. He tried to keep quiet, hoping he hadn't made any noise that would have awakened his guest downstairs. Asterix gripped his tousled hair in frustration. He had been doing so well. The nightmares had long since faded. They still lingered, but the vivid images had diminished quite a bit in the last five months. Then why, why, had they resurfaced with such violence tonight? Why had those terrible feelings and thoughts broken out upon him again, shattering his sleeping soul so painfully?

Asterix pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his head against them. He had the strange thought of how much like a frightened child he must look. And, indeed, he felt like one. The fleeting idea to go and visit Obelix passed his mind. Obelix had helped him through the nightmares before, back when they had been at their worst. Obelix had always been that source of comfort, that safety line that he wasn't even sure he would have survived without. Obelix had eased the pain so much. But, now, Asterix pushed the idea from his mind. He could not run off to find his friend like a panicked little boy; not when there was a guest in his hut, as well as that of his friend. It was a private matter, one that Asterix hoped to keep to himself. Only the village knew of his mental struggle, but they understood. A stranger would not.

And so it was that the Warrior settled back down in his bed, staring up at the raftered ceiling, waiting for the sun to rise.


The rooster crowed way too early.

It felt as though Obelix had just fallen asleep when Chanticleerix* gave the first call. It was loud, and grated on his nerves like iron on stone, but, then again, he was rather curious to start the day. Obelix liked company. And there were twenty-four new persons in the village that he knew nothing about. Which, to be honest, was both exciting, and frightening.

Groggily, and sending a glare toward the window from where the crowing came, Obelix got up. He realized he had fallen asleep in his clothes, and, therefore, only had to shave before heading downstairs. He wasn't all that surprised to find Itylus already awake, and he greeted the man accordingly.

"G'morning." It came out as a tired mumble, but friendly nonetheless.

Itylus gave a mild grunt and a nod in return, back to his usual, expressionless demeanor. He was making his bed, folding the sheets so that one could have bounced a sestertius* on it's smooth surface. Perfection seemed to be a must with the fellow, and Obelix vaguely wondered if the other travelers were like that too. His posture was perfect, his hair was perfect, and his body was fit, trim, and muscular. Like Tragicomix. Maybe even more so.

"Have you been up long?" Obelix inquired, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Indeed," came the curt reply. "For some time. I awoke and ran the length of your village, and participated in morning exercises with others of my company. Tell me, do all you Gauls sleep so late?"

Obelix gawked at the man's obvious disapproval. His gaze turned to the window, where the sun had just barely broken the horizon in the East. If this was Itylus's idea of 'sleeping late', Obelix didn't know what the man would have said if he knew what time he usually got up. "It was a late night last night," Obelix answered, a bit defensively. "We had to catch up on what we lost." When in reality, he felt that he hadn't caught up on anything. At best, he had only gotten a total of two hours of actual sleep. How could Itylus run on even less?

"Where is your food?"

The question snapped Obelix out of his thoughts, and awakened his own hunger. "Oh, um, normally in the pantry. We store stuff for the winter, but, ah, there's none left." He grinned sheepishly. "I ate it up around late autumn."

Itylus blinked, his dark eyes showing their confusion. "Then...where do you get your meals?"

"Oh, I go boar hunting with Asterix every morning. We hunt for the whole village sometimes." He thought about it a moment. "But, if your hungry now, I'm sure you can go over to Vitalstitistix's hut. He has an extra storehouse, you know, for emergencies and visitors. He can feed you."

Itylus nodded. "It would give me a chance to speak with Lycurgus." A far away look came to his eyes, as though something was on his mind. "I have something of importance to discuss with him."

Obelix shrugged, not really worried about affairs he probably wouldn't understand anyway. He looked about for Dogmatix, suddenly very aware of his absence. He found the pup in his usual corner, awake, but unmoving. "Come on, Dogmatix. Walkies."

The small terrier cocked its head, looking reluctant. With a sideways gaze pinned on Itylus, Dogmatix slowly rose from his nest of rags and straw. Staying as far from the stranger as he could, the pup made his way to his master's hands. Obelix picked him up, unaware of the dog's anxiety.

Dogmatix's sense of danger, just like every one else's in the village, had been heightened since the incident with Mastix. It was already far sharper than any human's. He felt uneasy around this particular person. In fact, he didn't like any of the strangers. Something foul and uncertain had tainted the air. And Dogmatix found it disturbing that his master had not yet sensed it himself.

"Alright, we can go. I'll want to find Asterix anyway, and I'm sure he'll be there, if he isn't already." With that, Obelix headed out the door, with his guest trailing behind him. The man didn't seem to mind the cold, still wearing very little for the time of year. And Obelix found himself wondering how the man wasn't ill from the weather, dressed as he was. Not that it mattered. Obelix himself was perfectly fine. It was just, normally, he found, people not under the influence that he was under usually found the winter far less durable.


*Chanticleerix - The name of the village rooster. Something really funny is that my family once owned a rooster who we named Chanticleer. And that was years before I had even heard of the Asterix comics. :)

*Sestertius - Or sestertii, was a coin of the day. It was a cauldron full of these that Asterix lost in the comic book "Asterix and the Cauldron".

Sorry this chapter is a little bit shorter, but I felt this was a good place to stop. :) I've had my grandparents up for the last several days, so writing has had to wait. :)