The temperature seemed to have dropped far lower than it should have been. Or maybe it was just the icy feeling that had crept into the fishmonger's soul. He felt as though he were chilled; a cold lump in his throat and stomach like he would never even think of eating again. His hands were shaking too, but that wasn't because of the cool air. That was because he was afraid. He'd never admit it. Never. Not to anyone...but he was terribly afraid.

The moment Fulliautomatix took off running, Unhygienix had returned to crouching beside his injured friend. He felt his throat tighten painfully as he shifted his gaze from one hurt to another that covered Cacofonix's body. Most were just little cuts, but that wound on his shoulder was bleeding enough that his white and blue-checkered tunic was slowly turning a dark, crimson red. It contrasted horribly with the bard's pale skin. Pale as snow, just like Impedimenta's and Geriatrix's. It was a color the fishmonger was beginning to dread. He could imagine it breaking out on his wife; his children. What would he do then?

But right now, it was Cacofonix who needed attention. Stretching out a quaking hand, Unhygienix gave the bard's uninjured shoulder the slightest motion of a shake, so gentle it must have been barely noticeable. "C-Cacofonix?"

The bard made no movement, nor sound. Unhygienix gave a shivering sigh, lowering his gaze to the musician's arm. It was hard to tell just how bad the wound was; half of Cacofonix's body was tangled in the bard's bright, red cape. Steeling himself, Unhygienix carefully leaned forward and unfastened the gold, circular clasp that held the cloth about the bard's shoulders. Then, hesitantly, he tried to disentangle his friend from the folds of the fabric. The motion, however gentle, still must have pulled or bumped against something, for all at once Cacofonix gave out a gasp, twitching in a way that Unhygienix was sure only hurt him more.

Flinching back, the fishmonger sat on his heals, trying to figure out what he should do. But then, slowly, he realized there was nothing he could do; not until help arrived. He was no healer, nor was he a druid. Anything he tried might harm Cacofonix to a greater extent. And so, as much as it pained him, Unhygienix did absolutely nothing. He sat, rocking slightly back and forth, just like he used to whenever he was upset as a child. For that was how he felt.

"I should have been able to stop this," he whispered sadly. "Of all days to...to be afraid of climbing those accursed stairs." He closed his eyes, as if trying to block out the image. It was something he was certain would haunt him for quite some time. Reopening his misty eyes, he glanced up at the tree hut far above them with a sigh that caught in his throat. "I...I never got to thank you for...for the kindness you showed my little boy last night." Tears were threatening to fall, but he wiped them away, even though there was no one to witness it. His voice was becoming increasingly unsteady. "I-I felt so useless, not being able to console him. But you offered yourself to take my place, just for a moment. And, what's more, you could have been hurt yourself by doing so." Memories of touching Asterix and being burned, as well as the pain it had caused, came to mind. "We didn't know whether Mastix's magic was upon them. You could have been burned, like Fulliautomatix and I had been...but you did it anyway. And I know the thought crossed your mind. I saw it in your face...But you did it anyway."

The fishmonger nearly choked on a sob that threatened to become audible. This whole week had been so messed up. Mastix was a monster; always seeming to target those who deserved it the least. Not that anyone deserved such cruel actions against them. But Mastix always attacked those who were less likely to fight back; least likely to be able to fight back. Asterix, the children, and now Cacofonix. Oh yes, Unhygienix was certain the bard's fall was the dark druid's doing. It had to be.

Squeezing his eyes shut in emotional anguish, the fishmonger lowered his head in total defeat. "...How can I ever thank you for what you did...And how can you ever forgive me for how I treated you these last several days. I was...I was harsh and cross, all because of a little accident. Sure that table put a hole in my roof, but no one was hurt. But, rather than being grateful for the blessings of friends and family, I let myself get angry. And, unfairly, angry at you. And then you traveled all the way to the Carnutes and back for us, and I never even thanked you for it. How...how can I ever make this right. Please...Please forgive me..." He let his face rest in his hands; broken.

"...Un-Unhy-gienix..."

The soft, halting voice, added to the almost undetectable brush against his arm, caused Unhygienix to startle terribly; lifting his head with a gasp. He was rewarded with the bard's blurry, blue eyes looking up into his own. The fact that Cacofonix was conscious took a moment to set in, before the fishmonger gave a shout of surprise.

"Cacofonix!" His friend winced, reminding Unhygienix that he should keep his voice down. After such a fall, it wouldn't be unnatural if the bard had a horrible headache. "Shh," the fishmonger indicated, more to himself than anyone else. "Shh, don't try to move. Fulliautomatix has gone to get help."

But Cacofonix did try to move, despite his friend's warning, gasping when the motion proved to be too much. He fell back, panting, trying to focus his eyes on the black, tan, red, and yellow blob he knew was Unhygienix. He licked his dry lips, blinking sluggishly, as if that would do any good. "I-"

He got no further before a terrible cough took hold of the him, wracking his body mercilessly; and very painfully. Each cough hurt more than anything he had experienced before, robbing him more and more of breath, and keeping him from taking any air in. Unhygienix did his best to help, but there was really nothing he could do. After a long, dreadful moment, the coughing ceased, and Cacofonix was once more panting weakly for breath.

The fishmonger held a comforting hand on the bard's uninjured shoulder, as if to hold his friend in place lest he try to move again. His eyes were full of concern and sympathy, with just a hint of panic. "I don't think you should speak right now," the fishmonger said gently, trying not to show just how desperate he was feeling. He kept sending longing glances in the direction of Vitalstatistix's hut, praying that at any moment Fulliautomatix would appear with help. Cacofonix might be conscious, but he was obviously in a lot of pain. Each of the bard's arduous breaths was punctuated by a sharp wheeze that made Unhygienix increasingly nervous. The fishmonger's attention snapped back to the musician when Unhygienix felt a shaking hand weakly grasp his arm.

Cacofonix felt terrible; twenty times worse than terrible, but he had one thing he wanted to say. Needed to say. When he had slowly crossed over from unconsciousness, he had vaguely heard the end of Unhygienix's guilt-ridden words. The fishmonger was feeling responsible because he hadn't apologized? The bard thought they had already resolved this. Maybe not in words, but the general feelings of hostility had diminished ever since he had left for the Carnutes. There was nothing to be guilty about. And there was no way that Cacofonix could convince Unhygienix otherwise without speaking. Reaching out with a quaking hand, the bard gained his friend's attention. "...But I...just wanted to...tell you...I for...give you..." That was the most important thing; to reassure the fishmonger that he wasn't holding any of this against him. The next most important thing was to say, "I...I'm...s-sorry..."

Unhygienix blinked once or twice, then shook his vigorously. "No, no; you have nothing to be sorry for," he insisted, griping the bard's uninjured shoulder just a tad bit more firmly. "I never should have...Hey! Hey, don't pass out on me! Come on, Cacofonix! Stay awake!"

Cacofonix startled, wincing as he tried to keep himself conscious. His eyes were clouding more than ever now, and a tinge of gray was creeping into the edges of his vision. "...I don't...think..." The bard gave a shudder as his eyes fluttered shut; becoming still once more. Unhygienix stared down at the limp figure with an anguished expression, feeling the anxiety from before return with a vengeance. Giving his friend a hesitant, reassuring pat, even though he knew Cacofonix was no longer conscious to feel it, Unhygienix sent another anxious glance in the direction of the Chieftain's hut.

"It's alright. It's going to be alright. Fulliautomatix is coming..."

BAMM!

Fulliautomatix flew through the door of Vitalstatistix's hut like the wind, slamming the wooden structure loudly against the wall behind it. He was out of breath, despite the short distance from Cacofonix's tree to the Chieftain's cottage, and his eyes held a wild, panicked expression. All the villagers jumped at his entrance, except for those who were taken ill; a number which had grown even since the three Gauls had left a short while ago.

"By Toutatis, Fulliautomatix!" Mrs. Fulliautomatix cried, surprised by her husband's unusually fast and uncoordinated movements. The blacksmith was more of the strong, slow type. He moved when he needed to, and, should the situation arise, he could move quite quickly; but nothing like the hurried, frantic movements she saw now. She realized at once that something had to be amiss. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Cacofonix fell!" the blacksmith gasped out, supporting his weight against the wall as he fought to regain his breath. "From his tree! Cacofonix fell!"

Getafix, who, along with the other two druids, had been ministering to the Gauls who had suddenly been taken ill, jumped to his feet. The panic that had been in Fulliautomatix's voice was all at once carrying in his own. "What?! Oh, by Toutatis!" The village druid made as if to rush from the hut, but a strong hand hastily snatched his arm, keeping him from doing so.

"You can't leave these villagers," the Venerable Druid said sternly, without loosening his grip. He knew that his past student's emotions had gotten a hold of him again. "These people need to be taken care of; they may not make it if you don't help Valuaddetax." He was vaguely aware that Asterix was now standing close to Getafix, obviously trying to determine whether he should interfere. The Venerable Druid saw that the Gaul's hand was gently resting above the hilt of his sword, though Asterix made no move to draw it.

Getafix turned on his past mentor as though the elder had just requested that he cut of his own arm. "But Cacofonix needs help just as badly; if not more so!" he cried angrily. He felt torn; frustrated, mostly because he knew the elder was right.

The Venerable Druid's face softened just a bit. "I know. Which is why you must stay with those here. I am more powerful than you; I may be able to do more for Cacofonix than you or Valuaddetax could. In a similar way, I would be useless in tending to the ill, for I have no knowledge of disease, like the two of you do." He glanced over at Fulliautomatix. "Which means we still need those flowers. Do you think you can carry as much as you can and bring it here, Blacksmith?"

Fulliautomatix nodded dizzily, still rather stunned by the disastrous turn of events.

"Good, go do so." The elder turned back to Getafix who he still held firmly, and who was still looking very defiant. "I will take care of the bard, Getafix. Let us use our gifts where they will be most useful."

After a moment of indecision, the village druid backed down, nodding as he returned to Geriatrix's side, trying to ease some of the discomfort the fever was causing him. Getafix hated to admit it, but the Venerable Druid was right. While he himself was quite an accomplished druid, his powers paled in comparison to the Venerable Druid's own. The wounds Cacofonix had sustained were no doubt quite serious, in which case magic, rather than medicine, would be needed to stabilize him. Meanwhile, Valuaddetax could assist him in bringing down the fevers of the sick Gauls, something the Venerable Druid knew nothing about; especially since Getafix's cure for it was of his own invention.

"I'm coming with you," Asterix declared, stepping up to stand directly in front of the Venerable Druid.

But the elder shook his head, kneeling to better match the short Gaul's height. "I do not believe that to be wise, Asterix. The whole point of these attacks and injuries to your friends is to try to force you to surrender yourself to Mastix. We can't let that happen. Seeing Cacofonix, at least, before I can determine his condition, may prove to be too...distressing. Please, stay here until I return. I promise that I will do my best to help him." He knew Asterix wouldn't feel satisfied with standing by and doing nothing. "You have my word that, as soon as I have looked him over, I shall bring him here; then you can assist all you want. Just let me go first; please."

The emotional stress that passed through Asterix's expression was clearly visible; but he, just like Getafix, saw the wisdom in the elder's words. He nodded, shifting his gaze to the floor. It was very possible that the druid was correct; that seeing Cacofonix in whatever state he may be in, might send Asterix over the edge. As it was, he could feel himself slipping into an almost needling sense of conviction; that he should end it all and just give up. But the Gaulish Warrior inside of him, or maybe it was that Solas Anam, held him firmly in check. At least for now.

Turning and heading for the door, the Venerable Druid found Fulliautomatix still standing in the doorway. The druid recognized shock when he saw it, and that was undoubtedly what the blacksmith was struggling to overcome. He was gazing around the inside of the hut, taking in the numerous persons who had fallen to whatever illness Mastix had plagued them with. That, mixed with Cacofonix's fall, was obviously stunning him to immobilization. Knowing that they had no time to deal with such weakness, the Venerable Druid took hold of the burly man's shoulders and gave him a firm shake. It felt a little cruel, especially since Fulliautomatix couldn't help it, but the elder knew that it had to be done.

"The flowers, Fulliautomatix!" the Venerable Druid said loudly, "The flowers! Go get them!"

However hostile the motion, it worked. Fulliautomatix snapped back to reality, and headed off at once; the Venerable Druid following him swiftly.

When Unhygienix spotted the quickly approaching blacksmith and druid, he very nearly cried in relief. He was a little confused as to why the Venerable Druid was being brought instead of Getafix, but that was only momentary. What did it matter which druid came to help? As long as they could help.

The Venerable Druid reached them swiftly, motioning for Fulliautomatix to go and fetch what flowers could be salvaged. Many had gotten crushed or lost during Cacofonix's fall. The elder knelt down beside the fishmonger, his eyes already taking inventory of the bard's injuries. "He is unconscious."

It wasn't a question, but Unhygienix felt inclined to answer anyway. "Yes. But he woke up for a short while, before he passed out again."

That seemed to worry the druid, who suddenly looked a bit more panicked. Reaching forward to try and disentangle the cloak from Cacofonix's shoulders, just as the fishmonger had tried to, the Venerable Druid explained his concern. "That is not a good sign. The fact that he was awake, but then succumbed to unconsciousness again implies that he is not suffering from just a bump on the head. Which he does appear to have acquired." He gently ran a finger over the cut on the bard's brow. Turning to the next most evident injury, the druid took hold of the bloodstained material that covered Cacofonix wounded shoulder. He gave a quick jerk of his hands, ripping the cloth open so as to better access the injury.

Unhygienix couldn't help wincing at the terrible wound. It wasn't very big, but it was deep. It was a puncture mark, that much was plain. The blood escaping the injury hid most of the damage, but beneath it there was visible a far darker region, where something had managed to stab inward, reaching deep into the bard's shoulder. Thankfully, whatever had pierced the skin was no longer there. Though, as he watched the substantial amount of blood leaking from the wound, Unhygienix wondered whether that was a good thing, or a bad thing.*

"Tell me exactly what happened," the druid commanded, as he worked to stanch the flow of red, using the bard's now tattered cape. It was muddy and soiled, and the Venerable Druid found it hard to find a patch of the material that would not infect the wound with dirt. "It will help me find and treat his injuries."

Unhygienix found it hard to direct his eyes away from the puncture wound in his friend's pale skin, but he forced himself to, finding that it eased the nausea in his stomach. "He...he just suddenly went all rigid; up there on his platform. Just started staring into space. Then he...he went completely limp. He fell from the right and..." This part filled him with even more guilt. "He hit the roof of my hut. Then he fell again to here..."

The Venerable Druid nodded, something akin to relief in his eyes. Detecting the convicted tone in the fishmonger's voice, the druid spared a quick, pitying glance in the man's direction. "Do not blame yourself for his injuries, just because he landed on your hut," he insisted, continuing to minister to his patient. "If he had not fallen on your roof, before landing on the ground; and instead fell straight down, it is very possible he would not have survived."

That lifted the veil of guilt from the fishmonger's eyes just a bit, but also filled him with a sickening wave of fear. It had been that close? They had truly been that close to losing Cacofonix? The thought was one that made him shudder, before pressing it out of his mind. Dwelling on that which had not happened would do little to help the current situation.

"This wound," the druid continued, "was probably caused by him landing wrong on one of the various branches that make up your roof."

"But my roof is covered in straw," Unhygienix said weakly, trying not to envision the event.

"Yes, but that straw covers a good deal of wood, which, upon hitting a peg or protruding beam, may very well have been what caused this." The elder took hold of the bottom hem of his white robe, giving another sudden jerk of his hands, thereby ripping a long, thin strip of the material off. Reaching forward, he gently wrapped the clean cloth around the bard's arm and shoulder. This led to another discovery. "This arm appears to be broken."

"Broken?!" No wonder Cacofonix had gasped when he had tried to unwrap the cloak from that limb.

"Yes; notice the odd angle at which it is being held, even in unconsciousness? That would indicate that it is broken...about here I would say." He pointed to the region of the bard's arm, just below Cacofonix's elbow. Now that the elder pointed it out, Unhygienix noticed the dark, purple discoloration under the skin.

"How do we fix that?" the fishmonger asked nervously.

"It must be set. Which requires realigning the break and then wrapping it securely. But that is something I cannot do."

Unhygienix tried to keep the accusation out of his voice; not quite succeeding. "But why not?!"

The Venerable Druid finished tying off the makeshift bandage around the bard's shoulder. "I am not a healer, young man. I do not know how."

"But you just dressed his shoulder wound!" the fishmonger exclaimed, fear welling up inside him that perhaps Cacofonix was beyond any help.

The elder turned to him sharply, not out of anger, but of concern. "Unhygienix," he said firmly, suddenly remembering the man's name, "I am not a healer. But many know how to dress a wound; it is common knowledge among druids. But I am not doing nothing. As we have been sitting here I have been using my powers to ease his pain."

Unhygienix was taken aback. Glancing down, the fishmonger realized that, even while the druid had been ministering to his friend, the elder's left hand had been lightly resting on Cacofonix's chest. But what that meant, Unhygienix wasn't sure. "How?" he breathed.

"All druids specialize in different areas. For Valuaddetax, it is healing; for Getafix it is creativity. For myself it is the knowledge of magic. I have the ability to transfer strength, if need be, using an old form of mental chant. Very simple magic really."

Unhygienix returned his gaze to the druid's wrinkled hand. "But why did you come out instead of Valuaddetax then?"

The Venerable Druid nodded, understanding the Gaul's confusion. "Being a healer does not mean that things are cured at once. It is simply the knowledge of healing by herbs and remedies; not magic. I knew that your friend's injuries may be very serious. Though we will still need Valuaddetax's skill to heal him, it is magic that was needed to stabilize him enough to be treated. Otherwise, we may have lost him before he could be treated medically. Does that make sense?"

Unhygienix nodded slowly. He didn't understand it all; but he understood enough. The druid was saying that Cacofonix's injuries may have killed the bard long before herbs or potions would have done any good. But, so far, there were no injuries that proved to be that serious...unless... "You're keeping something from me." An observation, not a question.

The Venerable Druid heaved a sigh, keeping his hand very gently pressed against the bard's upper chest. There was no point in hiding the truth. The Gaul had a right to understand. "It was very possible that, after a fall such as his, that he may have been suffering from broken ribs. At the least, one. The worst case scenario would be that a broken rib had punctured one of his lungs. This was what I feared when I came out to you."

The fishmonger felt a lump form in his throat. "And...and does he?"

"My magic detects two broken ribs; but neither have injured his lungs. But moving him could prove a problem. Then again, we can't leave him here."

"So what do we do?" the fishmonger asked softly, thanking their luck that the bard had been spared a far more serious wound.

"I am using my power to strengthen him, and magically securing his inner injuries. That should keep him safe as we move him." The druid shook his head sadly. "He will be in great pain for some time; but none of his wounds are fatal."

Unhygienix nearly passed out in relief. "Oh, thank Toutatis..."

"Indeed. But we will still have to be very careful when we move him. In fact, we-" Whatever the elder was going to say was interrupted as Cacofonix gave a small, almost undetectable groan. "Ah," the druid said softly, as though he had expected that very thing to happen.

Cacofonix's eyes slowly opened, blinking rapidly as they tried to focus. After a moment, they did enough for him to recognize the white-bearded fellow leaning over him. He opened his mouth to say something, but the Venerable Druid interrupted him before he could speak.

"I don't want you to talk. You are badly hurt, and doing so may harm you further."

Unhygienix flinched, remembering all the talking Cacofonix had done before falling unconscious.

"Just try to breath normally," the druid instructed, continuing to will as much energy into the frail body as he could. The bard was nearly strong enough to move. Turning his head to the fishmonger, the elder explained, "I was expecting him to awaken. The strength my magic has filled him with is to thank for that. Though, whether a blessing or a inconvenience, that remains to be seen." Feeling the energy within the bard reach its fullest, the druid faced Cacofonix and spoke gently. "We are going to have to move you indoors. If you feel as though you can't handle that, you will let me know."

Ever so visibly, Cacofonix nodded.

"Alright," the Venerable Druid approved, "Now we just have to-"

Just at that moment, Fulliautomatix ran up to them. He had just finished carrying all the little, white flowers he could find back to Vitalstatistix's hut; returning to the Venerable Druid's side to assist the second he had finished. "How can I help?" were the first words out of his mouth as he came to kneel beside them. His eyes lit up in hope when he saw that Cacofonix was conscious, but then flickered when he saw what a struggle it was for the bard to remain so.

"Ah, good," the druid said, seeming extremely pleased with the blacksmith's reappearance. "We're about to move him indoors," he explained. "We need something to wrap him in; something not so covered with dirt and blood. We cannot risk any of his wounds being infected."

Fulliautomatix blinked before looking down at his own leather apron. It was a little wet, from the rain and running through puddles, but it wasn't nearly as muddy as anything else available. Plus, the inside was far cleaner than the outer. Reaching behind his back and hurriedly untying the strings, the blacksmith removed the thick cloth from his front. "Will this work?" he offered, holding the apron out to the druid.

"Yes; yes, that will do quite nicely." The Venerable Druid didn't take the cloth, however; instead, carefully easing his right hand beneath the bard's shoulders, while still keeping his left on Cacofonix's chest. Succeeding, he gingerly lifted the injured man into a sort of limp sitting position. Cacofonix winced at the motion, but was otherwise unresponsive. Motioning to the blacksmith with his head, the druid instructed, "Help me wrap him. Gently."

Fulliautomatix nodded, almost afraid to do so. Cacofonix was a thin fellow normally; injured, he seemed too frail to touch. But the druid knew what was best. The blacksmith carefully draped the leather about the bard's shoulders' mindful of the injury. He wished his apron were made of something finer, like cloth; but they'd have to make due with what they had.

Together, the three men managed to get Cacofonix securely covered, wrapped snugly, but not tightly, within the folds of the fabric. The strings of the apron came in handy, making it easy to secure the leather from slipping off. Cacofonix stayed relatively quiet throughout the process, only gasping if they accidentally moved too quickly. As they finished the task, Fulliautomatix held out his hands.

"I'll carry him."

The Venerable Druid looked grateful, but shook his head. "That is very kind of you, but that cannot be. My magic is the only thing giving him strength. If I am not touching him, that strength will leave his body, and we will not be able to move him."

Fulliautomatix looked confused, but accepted that explanation. Can you...you know, manage him yourself?"

The elder gave a genuine smile. "I may be old, but I have not lost my strength. Just help me lift him, and I'll carry him to the hut." It was true; the druid was quite sturdily built. Not as much as Fulliautomatix, but certainly more than Cacofonix. He was a good head taller than Getafix in size as well.

Crouching to make the action as smooth as possible, the Venerable Druid gave the bard a quick look. "You'll let me know if your pain increases?" When Cacofonix nodded, the druid slipped his arm beneath the bard's shoulders once again, as Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix assisted in helping the elder to stand with the added weight. Which wasn't much; Cacofonix was uncommonly light, due to his thin frame and stature.

Cacofonix gave a small gasp and a whimper half way up, causing the men to pause, but the bard nodded for them to continue regardless. Making sure that the druid's hand remained on the injured man's chest the entire time, the men finally succeeded in lifting Cacofonix up off the cold, hard ground.

"Alright," the Venerable Druid said firmly, shifting the bard carefully, so as to have the best grip. "Let's get him to the hut."

Slowly and gently, the three headed in that direction, mindful of the injured bard in their care.

Vitalstatistix's hut had become more of an infirmary than a home. Every spare corner was occupied with makeshift beds of blankets, cloth, and even clothes; a resting place for the ever growing number of sick Gauls. Valuaddetax and Getafix had had a rough time of making a potion out of the little white flowers that would be sufficient to bring down the dangerously high fevers. It worked, or moderately so; bringing down their temperatures to a more tolerable level. But it didn't cure it. Whenever a fever was finally brought down, several minutes later it would spike, returning to its previous height. Those who had fallen ill first where worse, indicating that this sickness was one that only continued in severity. Coughing broke out about an hour after being infected; hitting the patient hard, conscious or no.

Impedimenta, naturally, was in the most perilous condition. Vitalstatistix clung to her side like glue; but was also now aware of the others suffering around him. He did his part, helping where he could, taking care of those bedded close to his wife, so as to be near her.

Geriatrix, whose age was proving an unfavorable factor in this situation, was being treated lovingly by his wife. But things were looking bad, as some of the more serious cases were developing other, far more unpleasant symptoms. But none of the druids knew what was wrong. The disease, virus, whatever it was, was not one known to man. It was irregular; unpredictable, and, if not cured, Valuaddetax feared it may be fatal. But the druids would die themselves, if that was what it took, before they would lose anyone to the dark druid, Mastix.

And then, of course, they had Cacofonix to care for. The bard was far too injured to be lain on the hard floor of the hut, even with blankets spread out for him. And so, with the Chieftain's permission, the only bed, on the second level of the hut, was given to Cacofonix. No one had used it up to this point, seeing as no one felt one Gaul should be more privileged than another. When the illness had broken out, many wanted to stay near their families. But Cacofonix needed quiet, as well as a safe, sanitary bunk, where no one would accidentally trip over him, or spread dust on his wounds. Carrying the bard up into the loft was difficult, but with numerous helping hands it was soon accomplished.

Valuaddetax come up to look over the injured man, cleaning the bard's shoulder more thoroughly, wrapping it in linen, and then setting Cacofonix's broken arm. Everyone present winced at the cry of pain the bard gave as the bone was shifted, and then securely wrapped. The Venerable Druid kept his hand firmly pressed to Cacofonix's chest until all that could be done had been done. Valuaddetax managed to get a small painkilling potion into him before the Venerable Druid carefully removed his touch and the bard slipped into a fevered sleep. It still didn't feel sufficient, but it was all they could do. Afraid to leave Cacofonix alone, the Gauls who still retained their health volunteered to take turns sitting with him; Unhygienix volunteering to go first. The rest of them went back downstairs, where the Venerable Druid decided they should meet in audience.

Shortly after, all those who were still able had gathered in a circle at the center of the hut. It made it easy for those, such as Getafix, Vitalstatistix, and Valuaddetax, who were too busy to attend fully, to hear and comment from where they stood and worked. Leaving the Venerable Druid as the authoritative voice.

"Friends," he said strongly, taking in the villagers' pained, terrified expressions, "I know our situation looks grim but-"

"I thought your protection spell was supposed to prevent this!" Mrs. Geriatrix wailed from her position beside her husband. "Why is Mastix still getting through?!" The anguish in her face was enough to stop the elder druid cold.

"Ma'am, I..." The Venerable Druid shook his head, lowering his eyes. "Mastix has adapted far quicker to my magic than I anticipated. He has had time to dig into my methods over the years, as well as experiment with his own. I don't know what will work and what won't. We're running out of options."

"Than can't Getafix put his Neutralizing spell back up?" another Gaul spoke up fearfully. "It was working before."

Getafix himself answered that question. "Mastix was almost through my spell when the Venerable Druid and Valuaddetax arrived. It would do little to stop him now."

"But there must be something we can do!" Asterix cried out in frustration. He felt like their every turn was blocked by bad news. People were suffering, and they couldn't seem to find any way to stop it. Cacofonix's injuries only added to the general feelings of defeat, and they all knew that was Mastix's fault as well. Getafix had been certain of that. The dark druid must have used some sort of paralyzing spell, much like he had used at the beginning of this whole mess, before causing the bard to fall. "Things are getting worse and worse, and all anyone can come up with is that there is nothing we can do! That is not an option!" Asterix knew his outburst was scaring the others, but at this point, he didn't care. He was scared himself.

The desperation in the warrior's voice caused Getafix to turn. "Asterix, we haven't given up," he spoke firmly.

"But we aren't doing anything! Isn't that just as bad?!" Asterix felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, but he didn't pay it any mind. He knew it was Obelix. The large Gaul was already very worried, and seeing him equally worried was surely only increasing Obelix's nervousness. But Asterix couldn't help it. Things were spinning so quickly out of their control, he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it.

The Venerable Druid looked down at the short, blond Gaul standing before him, quivering with emotion. Asterix's inner light was pulsating wildly; not that the elder could see it, but he could sense it; beating in time with Asterix's rising voice. The strength was impressive, but also worrying. "Asterix, listen, we will try something new. We will come up with another way."

Asterix struggled to get himself under control; if not for his own sake, for the other villagers' peace of mind. Seeing him distressed would do little to help their depressive moods. But the question still remained. What would they do? What could they do? Toutatis knew how long it would take to come up with a new plan of action. And in the meantime others' lives were at stake. Asterix didn't want to lose anyone. He was afraid to lose anyone. Terrified. And here they were, half the village's population seriously ill. And for what? Him. It couldn't possibly get any worse.

"Obelix?... Are you alright?" someone asked suddenly, just as Asterix felt the heavy weight of his friend's hand slip from his shoulders. Turning quickly, Asterix took in his friend's all at once very pale skin. The large Gaul was blinking blearily, stumbling back a bit and holding a shaking hand to his head.

"Oh, Toutatis, no..." Lurching forward, Asterix took hold of Obelix's arm. "Obelix! Obelix, what's wrong?!" A sense of panic was gripping him, as his fear; his one greatest fear, ran through his head like a never ending caravan. Getafix's head snapped up from his current task, and in a moment he was racing to close the distance to grasp Obelix's other arm as the big Gaul went down.

Despite the two's care, Obelix still hit the floor with a ground-rumbling bang. Everyone gathered round in alarm, trying to assist the druids, who were trying to assist the suddenly very ill Gaul. It had happened so fast. Everyone had just expected Obelix to be immune to the illness; full of the Magic Potion as he was. But that theory was dropped in an instant, as the Gauls tried there best to minister to the now unconscious Obelix. The sight was heartbreaking; urging them all to push their skill and abilities to help.

Asterix, however, had backed away from his friend; eyes wide and fighting the urge to yell in panic. His eyes swept from Obelix's prone form, to those of all the other sick men and woman he called his friends. He saw Vitalstatistix, griping his wife's hand in grief, trying to give her just a little more potion to bring down her fever. He saw Mrs. Geriatrix patting her elderly husband's perspiring forehead with a wet cloth, tears of fear evident in her eyes. He knew upstairs Cacofonix lay, bruised, battered, and badly injured. The rest of the Gauls were frightened; the children clinging to their parents in fear of what may happen next. The druids were beginning to appear frantic; even the Venerable Druid's calm, reserved mask was fading. Asterix's eyes turned back to Obelix with pain erupting in his soul. His friend. His best friend...

This was his fault. All of it was. None of this would be happening if Mastix wasn't after that accursed light inside of him. Why was he different? Why was he 'special'? Why couldn't he just be a normal, ordinary man? Why couldn't Mastix just attack him and be done with it?

This was all his fault.

Something inside of Asterix collapsed; his resolve; his will to fight. The lives of his friends were far more valuable in his eyes than his own. There was nothing more they could do; so he would take the only option left. The only option Mastix had left them. Left him.

Making sure that no one saw him, Asterix began to creep backward until he was standing by the door. Placing a hand on the wooden frame, he glanced back sadly, taking in the hut, and all those he loved so much. His eyes settled on Obelix. His heart filled with a brotherly care he knew so well.

"I promised I'd do everything and anything I could to keep you all safe," he whispered softly. "And I will keep that promise. No matter what."

With that, he slipped through the door, unnoticed in the chaos that had descended within the cottage. There was no way to stop this. No way to save the others. No way but one; and Asterix planned to take it. Mastix had to release them. He just had too.

Asterix ran across the rain-soaked village, splashing through the muck and mire; heading for that one small gate in the village's wall that opened into the dark forest beyond.

...

*Puncture wounds can be very dangerous, sometimes even more so when the object that caused the injury is removed. This is because, once the object is removed, the blood will flow more freely, while as before, the object was keeping most of the blood inside the wound; inside the person's body. Removing the object could lead to the victim bleeding to death, or by causing more damage by pulling it out. A well-known example of this is Steve Irwin, better known as the "Crocodile Hunter".

Hi everyone! Sorry this took so long; writer's block snuck up on me again. :( But, it is now officially unblocked. :) We're nearing the end of this story, but don't worry, there's still plenty of stuff to cover before it's finished. We're at the climax; something I'm sure you could tell.

I thought I'd let you know that I finally went to the doctor for my shaking hands. They did a lot of tests. The shaking worried them enough, but when I told them I had fainted...well, I could tell they were kind of nervous. But they checked my heart, and they said it's perfectly healthy. So they took some blood, because it could be anemia, low blood sugar, low blood pressure, or an iron deficiency. Results haven't come in yet, so I'm not out of the woods yet. But, other than the shaking, I feel great. Finals are coming up, so of course I'm a little edgy. :) Thank you though, all of you, for the concern you've shown me. I count you all as friends, and I pray God blesses your lives. :)