"So you see," Asterix finished, "It's the only way outside the gates left open and unguarded."

The Gauls had met in Gatafix's hut once more. Again Vitalstitistix, Fullautomatix, Geriatrix, Unhygenix, Obelix, and Impedimenta sat in a circle in the druid's home. Their eyes lit up with hope at Asterix's suggestion, seeming to cause their faces to glow; though it may have been the firelight.

"But," Asterix quickly cut in, "If it doesn't work, and our attempt is discovered...Panacea could loose her life. If it is successful, she will be safe, and we'll have more food. It's a chance, but it could be a costly one."

All eyes turned to Soporifix, who sat in the corner, by the hearth. None of them felt they could decide the fate of another man's daughter. That decision was for Soporifix alone to make.

Panacea's father gazed down at his hands, which were resting on his knees. They were trembling slightly. He tried to weigh the options; make a logical choice, but it only led to one conclusion. If they didn't surrender, Panacea would die; if they did surrender, they would possibly all die. If they tried Asterix's plan, Panacea could survive. It might work.

Could and might was better than would.

"We...we need to save my daughter," the Gaul said softly. His knuckles turned white as he clasped his shaking hands in an attempt to control the quakes. "The odds are still against us, no matter what we do. So we'll have to take the lesser evil." He turned and fixed his eyes on Asterix. "Give your plan a try...and may Toutatis have mercy on us all."

The others nodded in silent agreement.

Gatafix, who was sitting in a chair halfway between the assembly and Cacafonix's bed, also nodded. He agreed there was little else to be done. "Who will be going out?"

Obelix knew what was coming.

"I will," Asterix replied, stepping forward without hesitation.

"Now, Asterix-"

"Obelix, we don't have time to argue," Asterix warned. He had known Obelix wouldn't like him going out alone. But they had no choice. Obelix couldn't go; he would be too easy to spot. To big a target. Asterix wanted his best friend in the village, where it was safe. Well...safer.

Obelix crossed his thick arms over his chest and stood, glaring down at the small warrior. His voice took on its no-nonsense tone. "Mr. Asterix, I am simply trying to point out that your plan is too dangerous to carry out alone!"

Asterix stood to his full height, which didn't even come close Obelix's chest. His expression filled with frustration. "Mr. Obelix," he said, trying to keep his temper under control, "I am trying to tell you that this may be the only way we can save Panacea and ourselves!"

"Well, then why can't I come?!"

"BECAUSE!"

"BECAUSE WHAT?!"

Gatafix stepped between them, arms attempting to hold them back; trying to defuse the argument. "Asterix, Obelix, please, calm down."

"WE ARE CALM!" both Gauls bellowed in unison, causing the others to cringe.

In the tense silence that followed, a small sound, barely noticeable was heard. Whether it was a grunt or a whimper, no one could say, but what they knew for sure, was from where it had come.

Turning as one, the assembly was greeted with the sight of Cacofonix, conscious and aware, standing shakily beside his cot. He was terribly pale, contrasting sharply with the dark, sickly circles under his eyes. But the blue orbs were open, and looking directly at them. Gone was the glazed, far-off look that had worried them all so badly.

Gatafix rose from his chair quickly and moved toward the bard, watching with relief when Cacafonix's eyes followed his movements.

When he was standing beside Cacafonix the druid lay a hand gently on the musician's shoulder, mindful of the many bandages that resided there. "Cacofonix, how are you feeling?"

The bard tried to speak, and Gatafix mentally kicked himself. How could I have forgotten!

Cacafonix pushed a fist hard against his chest, a look of great anxiety on his face. His breathing was starting to hitch, and Gatafix suddenly realized the bard was about to fall headlong into panic. That would be very bad in his condition!

The druid firmly took hold of both the bard's shoulders, this time regardless of the burns. He had to get Cacafonix's attention before the musician sent himself into hysterics. It worked. Cacafonix stiffened and stopped struggling to pull away, looking right into Gatafix's eyes. It was rather unnerving. The blue eyes were full of terror and pain, boring into his own dark ones. If the eyes were the window to one's soul, this one was in great distress.

"Yes, Cacafonix, you have lost your voice. I...I don't know how long it will stay that way, but I need you to stay calm." Fear still resonated in the bard's eyes. "I promise we'll do everything we can. I just need you to trust us. Can you do that?"

Cacafonix looked at the druid, then to the people watching anxiously from the other side of the room behind Gatafix's back. They looked back at him, nervous, but sending him encouragement with gentle smiles. A sort of peace came over his face and he relaxed in Gatafix's hold. The druid sighed in relief, letting go of the bard's arms.

"Good. Very good. I didn't want you to hyperventilate. Now, Cacafonix, do...do you remember what happened?"

Cacafonix shook his head slowly, but then paused. Fire. Pain. Fear. It all came back to him in a flash. The ball of fire, flying toward him; the earth-shattering smash as it hit; the pain when...no just pain. That was all. Just unbearable pain.

Cacafonix nodded weakly. Gatafix sighed in relief. At least there's been no to damage to his memory.

The druid's relief suddenly turned to confusion as Cacafonix began to wave his arms about, gesturing with his hands wildly. Gatafix and the others watched, perplexed, feeling guilty that they couldn't understand the broken, spastic movements.

"He's trying to ask us what happened."

Everyone turned to Obelix, surprised that, out of all of them, he was the first to comprehend the bard's meaning.

The big Gaul shrugged at their stares."It just makes sense."

Cacafonix nodded. The motion made him feel lightheaded and he almost fell forward onto the floor, but Gatafix caught him and helped him sit back on the bed. Cacafonix gave him a grateful look.

"It was the Romans," Gatafix explained solemnly. "They were some how able to catch your tree on fire."

"We barely had time to find you and get you out before it collapsed," Unhygenix said, shuddering at the dreadful memory. The stricken look that came over the bard's face made him wish he hadn't mentioned the musician's demolished home.

To Cacafonix the disaster was fuzzy; fragmented even. He remembered it in pieces. Something hitting the tree...hard. It had shaken its very roots. He was thrown inside his cottage. There...was smoke...and fire, and pain. All he could remember clearly was the pain.

The bard looked down at his thin body. He was covered in bandages. He could feel the itching sensation of healing wounds beneath them. He looked back at the druid, a question in his eyes.

"You were badly burned...among other things," Gatafix explained, seeing the confused and frightened expression on his face. "In fact, if you wouldn't mind, I really should take a look at them. It's hard to determine the extent of your injuries when you're unconscious, which you have been for nearly two days."

Cacafonix seemed startled by this information. To him, the memories of his ordeal were still fairly new. It bothered him more than he would ever admit that he had not been aware of the passage of time for two whole days.

The bard nodded his consent and the druid moved to unwrap the linen around his torso. But Cacafonix drew back suddenly. Fearing he had unwittingly hurt his friend, Gatafix gave him a concerned and questioning look.

The musician had bent over, his shoulders and arms leaning forward stiffly, as though he were trying to make himself as small as possible. Cacafonix, hand still pressed against his chest, lifted one finger, pointing behind the druid. Gatafix turned, confused, but then his face lit up in understanding. The bard was looking at the other Gauls, especially Impedimenta, with embarrassment.

Gatafix smiled with amusement. Looking over his shoulder at the silently watching group, the druid raised an eyebrow. "Could we have a little privacy, please?"

The Gauls blinked at him as if he had spoken in some incomprehensible language.

"Oh," Impedimenta said, slowly. "Oh!" The full impact of Gatafix's words finally became clear in her mind. She blushed deeply as she began shoving the others out the door, taking charge in an effort to diminish her own embarrassment.

"But not Fullautomatix and Unhygenix," Gatafix called, as he started to locate the ending place on Cacofonix's bandage. He saw the unhappy look the bard gave him. "They've done a fine job helping me so far, and I will be in further need of their assistance." He said this more as an explanation to Cacofonix then anything else.

The two Gauls in question remained while the others quickly left. They felt just a bit uncomfortable, but Gatafix didn't let them stay idle long enough to dwell on that.

...

Asterix and Obelix left and walked away from Gatafix's hut in silence. Both avoided each others eyes and neither spoke. It was always like this after they had an argument.

It was as if a physical barrier; a gap; a canyon, separated the two. A rift in their friendship that was so easy to create. Once it was made it felt as if nothing could ever fix it. Like nothing could ever be done to make things right between them. That was what it was like every time Asterix and Obelix fought. And every time it happened they always forgot just how easy it was to dissolve that terrible barrier.

"Asterix...I'm sorry." Those were the words that always closed the gap.

Before the words where even out of Obelix's mouth Asterix had launched himself into the larger Gaul's arms. He hugged him fiercely, clinging to him as if afraid to let go. "No, Obelix, I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper...It was wrong of me."

Obelix's face softened even more as he wrapped his thick arms around his friend. Asterix nearly disappeared beneath them, his legs dangling below, and his head just barely visible above. After a moment the two separated. Obelix set Asterix safely back on the ground, and the two friends quickly wiped any indications of tears from their eyes.

Yes, they always forgot how easy it was to fix that dreadful chasm between them. They were both very strong with their words. They were both good at arguing, and standing up for what they thought was true, at least in their own opinions. But they were the best at using their words to make things right; to encourage rather than to hurt.

"Obelix...if you want, you can come with me," Asterix said carefully. He still didn't like the idea, but he couldn't tell his best friend what to do. Obelix was a grown Gaul, and could decide things for himself. However, Asterix couldn't shake the image of Obelix being spotted while outside the village, because of his immense size. That would lead to nothing but suffering...for all of them. And Panacea...

Obelix shook his head with a small, gentle smile. "No, Asterix. You are right." He looked down at his widely girth. "Somehow I think a...well-covered Gaul would be a bother when sneaking about." He gave Asterix a playful nudge, that almost sent the blond Gaul sprawling. "You're so little, they won't even know you're there."

Asterix grinned widely, attempting to push his friend back, but gave up when Obelix didn't even budge. "Thank you, Obelix...I think."

"Just...just promise me..."

"Yes?"

"Promise me you'll be careful, Asterix. You're my closest friend...I don't know what I'd do if..."

Asterix patted his arm soothingly. "Hey, hey, pal...I'll be alright. I'll be very careful. Alright?"

"A-alright."

The two wandered off to gather the supplies Asterix would need for his venture that night. The rift in their friendship was dissolved. The argument; the shouts; the glares...they were all forgotten.

The Gauls did not notice the two small eyes that watched them from the safety of a bush beside one of the cottages they had been standing near. Once the two adults were out of sight, the child emerged.

Picanmix was a small boy, who only came up to Asterix's chin in height. His blond hair was bright and thin, giving it a soft and fine air. It flitted gently through the air as he glanced from left to right.

Obelix had said that it was because of Asterix's small stature that would make his plan to save them from the Romans more likely to succeed. Picanmix thought hard for a moment.

The Gaulish children had been talking with each other. The events of the past two days had been confusing and frightening for them. They did not truly understand the full complications of their situation, but they did now one thing: The adults were worried. Even Asterix and Obelix were nervous and tense.

The children, Picanmix in particular, had always hailed the two Gauls as heroes. Which, indeed, they were. Obelix and Asterix had saved them more times then anyone could count. The Gaulish children often fought over who should be who when they played in their fantasies. For only two children could play Asterix and Obelix at a time. They were the little ones' role models. There wasn't one young boy who didn't aspire to grow up to be just like them. Sometimes even the little girls were inspired.

Picanmix shook his head. Things had to be pretty bad if Asterix and Obelix were worried.

"You're so little, they won't even know you're there"...That was what Obelix had said. If Asterix was small, Picanmix was even smaller. He could pass unseen. He could be a hero, just like Asterix. The little boy nodded to himself, his decision made.

If Asterix could do his best to save the Gauls, why couldn't he...

...

"Fullautomatix, go fetch some clean water from the well. Unhygenix, go find some vegetables. Just a few, however. Under the circumstances, we need to conserve our supply."

The two Gauls rushed off to do as the druid bid. Gatafix chuckled softly to himself as he saw Cacafonix visibly relax. The bard was relieved now that he no longer had an audience. He was apparently very self-conscious without his blue and white-checkered tunic.

Gatafix proceeded to unwrap the linen, finding to his surprise, but pleasure, that the burns were healing abnormally fast. The disturbing patches of charred flesh were already starting to fade as new layers of skin replaced the damaged ones. Many were nearly completely gone, and it was obvious that there might not even be any scars once they finished.

As happy as this made him, Gatafix was completely bewildered. Why would the wounds be healing so quickly? And efficiently? It didn't make any sense. He had not used any potions, or powders, nor anything that could so miraculously mend the bard's scorched and broken body. And yet, here was Cacafonix; conscious and moving without too much trouble when, in all logical sense, he should not be able to do so. Even his ankle, which Gatafix had determined broken himself, was now able to hold the bard's weight, causing only a slight limp.

Gatafix sighed. He'd have to think about that riddle some more later, but for now he had things to attend to.

By the time Fullautomatix and Unhygenix returned, Gatafix had rebandaged the bard's side, which was one of the few injuries left that needed to be wrapped. It was not healing as fast as the other wounds...Of course, it had been more serious.

Gatafix had also found one of his old, long, white tunics. He had cut the material to normal shirt length and helped Cacafonix slip it on. The musician looked odd in pure white, as it was not his usual choice of color. The tunic was far to large for him, hanging loosely, and the sleeves had to be rolled up so as not to cover his hands completely. But it was better than nothing. The bard seemed much more at ease now that he was covered.

Gatafix took the water and vegetables Unhygenix and Fullautomatix had brought and threw them into the big cauldron over the fire. He started cooking them into a very light stew, adding just enough spices to give it taste. Cacofonix's stomach was completely empty; it would be unwise to give him anything too strong.

While the druid worked, the other two Gauls sat down and caught the bard up on everything that had happened since the Roman's first attack. Cacofonix listened attentively, eyes wide and hands clutching the cup of water Fullautomatix had given him. He became very distressed when they told him about Panacea, but relieved when told Asterix had a plan. If anyone could get them out of this mess, it was the little warrior.

"We're sorry about your tree, though," Unhygenix finished. He became thoughtful. "We haven't been able to figure out how the Romans did it. You know, caught your house on fire? Flaming arrows could not have reached that high, nor would it have caught fire so quickly." A mental sound replayed in his head, of the sudden noise in the night that had started this whole nightmare.

Cacofonix began shaking his head and signing with his hands again. When all he received was blank stares he sighed in frustration, looking about him for some way to convey his message. His eyes lit up and he pointed to an apple in the pile of things Unhygenix had gathered. He gestured to it repeatedly, indicating that he wanted it.

Confused, Fullautomatix rose and got it, bringing it back and setting it in in the bard's hand. By this time Gatafix was watching as well.

Cacofonix set the apple in the palm of his right hand, placing his elbow on the top of his knee, With a sudden movement, he shot the lower part of his arm forward, launching the fruit across the room.

The other three Gauls watched as the apple flew through the air, hit the far wall, and then fell to the floor, bouncing once or twice before coming to a stop.

A silence followed.

Fullautomatix couldn't figure out why his friend had wanted the fruit, if all he had planned to do was hurl it across the room. The meaning didn't snap into place until Getafix's troubled voice broke the silence.

"A catapult."

Cacofonix nodded vigorously.

The blacksmith paled considerably. "By Toutatis..." He couldn't even imagine what that must have been like; to be hit by such a powerful weapon. It put the damage, as well as the bard's injuries into a new light. "With fire?"

Getafix nodded slowly. "I would not put it past the Romans, especially that fiend, Spacious, to devise such a thing." Gatafix motioned to Unhygenix. "Go tell the others."

The fishmonger got up and quickly left.

Getafix went back to his pot of boiling stew while Cacofonix leaned back in the bed. He was thoroughly exhausted, and as he lay there his eyes slowly fluttered shut. Before long, the bard was sleeping peacefully. For the first time since the fire. One of his hands subconsciously lay against his upper chest and throat, as if doing so would somehow release the invisible barrier that prevented him from speaking.

Fullautomatix watched sadly, wishing with all his heart that there was something he could do.

...

Wow, that chapter really just seemed to flow from my typing fingers! It's quite a bit longer than most of my other chapters! :)