Spacious grinned maliciously, teeth bared in the cruel smile as he watched the dying flames from the within the Gaulish village fade and then go out altogether. The inhabitants had surely extinguished the terrible fire, stopping the disaster from spreading. But the damage had already been done. The catapult had worked far more efficiently then the commander could ever have hoped. In his cruel mind he could still see the ball of flame as it flew through the air, crashing against the side of the large tree in the center of the Gaulish village. Oh, how wonderfully it had burst into a billowing inferno! It had lit up the early morning sky, like a beacon of death, smoke trailing into the air in great, black plumes. Spacious had been unable to hear anything at first, nothing but the quiet of the night desturbed by the crackling of flame in the stillness. But that had soon changed. As the Gauls had awoken, fearful screams and shouts had pierced the air, drifting toward the waiting commander.

The other Roman soldiers did not share their leader's enthusiastic joy. They had been told this weapon would be impressive, but it still shocked them as they imagined the horrible nightmare it was causing upon their enemies. Such as attack had syrely done more harm than just to the tree. That village was filled with small, Gaulish huts, some of which held entire families. There was no way that that shot had not hurt someone in the process. Maybe a woman, or a child. It gave their stomachs all a slight turn, and their hearts a faint twist. The Gauls needed to be defeated, that was true. The savages stood between Caesar and his quest for complete rule over all of Brittainy and Armorica. But to inflict such a murderous attack...and in a place with families, without any warning, in the dark of night...It was something that they wouldn't have unleashed on their worst enemy.

But they had, just now, done exactly that.

"W-What do we do now, Sir?" one Roman spoke up nervously, eyes still glued on the smoldering village. His ears were still ringing with the sound of the chaos that had insued within those walls across the field. He was certain it would haunt him for years. He tried to convince himself that they were merely Gauls, and weren't worth the bother, but something deep within him argued that life, no matter whose it was, was important and sacred. Even the lives of the Gauls.

"Now," Spacious grinned, settling back to sit against a tree as if to take a nap. He seemed completely at ease. Not the least bit unnerved by what he had just done. It was as though he saw it as nothing more than dropping a stone on an ant hill, enjoying the sight of the ants as they scurried in terror. "Now, we wait."

The soldier cocked his head, trying to make sense of his leader's behavior. No otjer commander had ever acted this way. Of course, no other commander had performed such a ruthless attack against the Indomibeable Gauls. "Wait? F-For what, Sir?"

Spacious grinned wider, closing his eyes in total bliss. "For them to realize just how bad off they are." He gave a chuckle, and the other soldiers nodded slowly, still eyeing the Gaulish village, filled with a sense of dread and deeply hidden fear. This was beyond anything Caesar had launched against the enemy before. It almost didn't feel Roman at all. It was cruel, and violent, and merciless. And though they had conquered many under Caesar's reign, it had never been done quite with so much...animosity.

Everything was fine at first. Soft, simple, and peaceful. Everything was fine. Like the drifting of a creek, aimless and gentle, he was only slow and weightless. Nothing wrong. Everything was fine. Everything was good.

Darkness.

But then again, maybe it wasn't. Something important...what was it? Coming. It was coming to him. Fear. Oh, Toutatis! What was wrong?! Everything was burning...Fire...Smoke...and pain. PAIN. PAIN. It consumed him, choking him. On every side it pressed, hot and stinging. Panic. Fear and panic. He wanted to escape, but he couldn't.

Trapped.

Trapped!

He was going to die!

"What's wrong with him?!" Fullautomatix cried out desperately, pressing down as firmly as he cold on the wreithing individual beneath his hands. He was struggling to hold a flailing Cacaofonix from falling off the cot to the hard floor, for fear such an event would only make their friend worse. The bard was suprisingly strong, feuled by his seemingly unfounded panic. Not even fully conscious, Cacofonix kicked and pushed like a madman, reeling in his attempts to escape his own, nightmarish subconscious. Fulliautomatix hated having to use force again the bard, but if it meant keeping Cacofonix from harm, then he would give it all he had to ensure it.

The Gaulish bard had been fine for the last hour or so, sleeping soundlessly without noise or movement, other than the rising and falling of his now banadaged chest and the rough wheeze of his stressed lungs. His breathing had been shallow, but steady, at least to a degree that Getafix had been comfortable with. After all that had happened that morning, they were really quite grateful that Cacofonix had gotten away alive at all. That all of them had. The bard had to be exhausted, which was proven by his silence and lack of effort to move at all...Until now. Suddenly that had changed, and with a series of gasps and small, almost whimpering noises, Cacofonix had launched himself into a fit of violent kicking and squirming that had prompted his friends to spring into immediate action.

This can't be good for him in his condition! the blacksmith thought frantically, as he wrestled with the much smaller man in an attempt to keep him on the cot. Beside him, Unhygenix managed to take hold of one of the musician's wrists, which had shot out to hit him, but missed. The fishmonger gained a little confidence, holding on tight and rendering at least one of the bard's limbs no longer dangerous. As the two Gauls did their best, Gatafix was hurriedly searching his shelves of potions again, muttering in Druidic, his face worried and eyes slightly panicked.

"He's probably having a nightmare!" the druid mused, out loud so the others could hear him. His eyes wandered hastily over the labeled bottles, jars, and vials, cursing his unorganized inability to put things away properly. "He has a fever, which means he's probably slipped into delirium!" He startled when the sound of something breakable crashed to the floor, having been an object too close to the bard's flailing.

Unhygenix didn't like the sound of that at all. Looking worriedly down at their friend, whose breathing had again grown ragged during the scuffle, he felt his desperation grow to new hieghts. His anxiety needed a focus, and Getafix's words were as good as any. "Which means?!"

"He is in a disturbed state of mind, because of the fever!" Getafix shouted back over the chaos, not even turning to face them, too set on his frantic task. "He doesn't know who we are at the moment, and he's more than likely reliving the traumatic experience he had while in that fire!" Gatafix spread his arms wide, growling in frustration as he glared at the unorganized cabinette with intense disapproval. "I'm low on nearly all my potions! Curse whoever did this!" He meant the ones who had caused the fire, not used up all the potions. That would be silly, since it was only he who used them. Wishing with all his being that there could have been something to have prevented all this panic and pain, Getafix gazed in depression at his lack of resources.

Fullautomatix jumped back, losing some of his hold on Cacofonix as he just barely avoided being kicked sharply in the stomach. This isn't working! "Gatafix!" The druid hurried to his side, voice and body language filled with anxious regret.

"I don't have anything other then a knock out potion, and I can't risk that as of this moment! We have to calm him down!" Sitting on the bed next to the still struggling patient, Getafix saw with fear that Cacofonix was hyperventilating. His movements weaker and less cordinated, the bard was less likely to accidentally kick the druid, but his overbreathing would only cause more problems, if they didn't get him calm and breathing normally. Gatafix took a hold of Cacofonix's hand, which was raised in the air, grasping at nothing. Not knowing what else to do, the druid leaned forward a bit, clearing his through and gaining control of his panic before he began to talk firmly, but softly, to the injured Gaul.

"Cacofonix, listen to me. Listen. It's Gatafix. You're alright. None of what you're feeling is real. It's alright..." His voice was low, soothing in both tone and words. He accompannied the action with a careful rub of the bard's pale hand, in an effort to use physical touch to draw Cacofonix from the frightened world in his mind. Conventional or no, it seemed to be doing the trick. The bard's movements became less frantic, less pained and tormented, though he still twitched and gasped for a little while longer as his lungs started to fall back into a more even rhythm. The druid nodded, in satisfaction, meeting both Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix's gaze with a tired smile. "It's working." He sat a moment longer, speaking to Cacofonix softly and gently pressing the bard's very cold hand. Then, releasing his hold carefully, Getfix stood tohis feet experimentally. Cacofonix shifted restlessly, seeming to have noticed the druid's sudden absence. "Come say something to him. Let him know you're here."

The blacksmith and fishmonger looked startled by his suggestion, having already felt invading enough just by holding their friend down. It was no secret among the villagers that, ever since they were children, Cacofonix had been a source of teasing for many of the older, larger boys, Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix especially. It seemed very unlikely that the bard would gain any comfort from their presence. But the need to do something, anything, to help prompted both Gauls to nod and step forward carefully. Getafix moved a few steps to the left, allowing them clear access to the cot-side.

The blacksmith fidgeted with his fingers, feeling that he should be the one to speak first. He wasn't sure why he felt that way, but he somehow sensed that it should be so. Of the two of them, he was the one who had come down hardest on the bard over the years. It had all been in fun, for the most part, and he had always just assumed Cacofonix had understood that. But now, with their friend hurt and unconscious, he wasn't so sure. Clearing his throat, the blacksmith settled down on the side of the cot, the mattress frame groaning under their combined weight. "Uh...Cacofonix? I-it's me, Fullautomatix...Unhygenix is here too." He paused, considering for a moment of copying Getafix's soothing many, though in a less touchy, physical manner. "You're safe. You don't have to be afraid anymore..." His friend looked so pale and weak, Fulliautomatix felt a flare of anger toward whoever or whatever had done this. His mind's eye returned to the burning cottage. To the terrified look on Cacofonix face as he struggled against the panic and fear and terror. It was not all that unlike the expression that was on the bard's face now, even in sleep. It made Fullautomatix feel sick.

Cacofonix, however, calmed considerably at the sound of his voice, much to the blacksmith's surprise. His breathing evened out, and the terrible wheezing was reduced to a small, periodical squeak. It was truly a blessing. Unhygenix shared Fulliautomatix's amazement when his voice calmed the bard further. Gatafix nodded with satisfaction.

"Good, good. Keep talking to him. I'll be right back." Walking away carefully from his place by the cot, Gatafix returned to his shelf of half empty potions. He frowned at the depleted collection, abmonishing himself for not restocking them sooner. More controlled now, he mentally went over the symptoms he had observed in the bard, trying to decide on a course of action to treat them. Cacofonix was very warm to the touch, and it bothered Gatafix deeply. Fevers could be dangerous things, especially among those with weak constitutions, as was certainly true of Cacofonix. The poor man always seemed to be coming down with something during the cooler months. On the other hand, fevers could be quite harmless, but the druid didn't want to take that chance. He didn't even have a simple fever remedy on hand, which made what could have been a quick fix far more complicated to treat. Oh, well, that couldn't be helped, and there was no sense wasting time pouting over it. There were more traditional ways of bringing a fever down that were just as effective, even though they tended to take longer.

Moving swiftly, the druid hurried outside to fetch some cold water from the well at the center of village. Gatafix was relieved to see that Asterix, Obelix and the rest of the villagers had succeeded in putting out all the flames of the terrible fire, including the ones that had spread to a few of the closer huts. All in all, it could have been a lot worse, as far as property damage was concerned. A few scorched roofs wasn't too bad. Of course, Cacofonix's tree was little more than a large, smoldering log at this point. With the dry weather they had been having, the flame had caught to a lot faster than it might have during the rainy season. Yes, they really were truly lucky no one had been killed. Cacofonix especially.

It was turning out to be a fine day, warm and clear. Above the lingering smoke that still rose from the ashes, the morning sun began to rise into the otherwise crystal, blue sky. Birds sang in the forest, and gulls by the shore gave their repeated calls. The sound of the serf against the rocks was just barely audible, creating a soft ebb and tide of sound in the background. In other words, it was a perfectly normal, beautiful spring day. Except, it wasn't normal. A feeling of sickening fear hung over the village, as though everyone within it were holding their breath. Afraid of what might come next.

Getting the water quickly, the druid made his way back to his hut, entering with a careful stride, so as not to desturb those within it. The moment he stepped indoors he noticed the relief on Fullautomatix and Unhygenix's faces, as they smiled back at him from the bard's bedside. Getafix's eyes shifted to their injured friend to find the fellow was no longer struggling at all, and was, in fact, sleeping peacefully once more.

"He dropped of just a moment ago," Unhygenix whispered, a hint of gratefulness in both his expression and tone. He looked incredibly tired, but no more then any of the other Gauls did at the moment. They were not accustomed to such a wake up call, and that, mixed with the stress and fear of the morning, was really starting to take a toll on their overall appearance. Dark circles rested beneath their eyes, and their posture, sitting even as they were, was slouched and limp. "What's that for?" the fishmonger asked gently, pointing to the wooden pail of water swinging slightly from Gatafix's hand.

"I need to bring down his fever, so we don't have another example of what we just experienced. Once we do that, he should rest without any more fear." He set the bucket down and put a cool, wrickled hand to the bard's bruised forehead. "He's still feverish. Pretty high too, by the feel of it."

Fulliautomatix, who had risen once more to give the druid the room he might require, frowned worriedly. "Is that...you know..." He didn't want to say what he was thinking, for fear of the answer, but Gatafix understood, and was a little less subtle.

"Fatal?...Could be, if it got really bad. But I don't think that's the case here." His face grew in determination. "Not if I have anything to do about it, anyway." Taking a cloth, a clean one, not the bloodied rag from before, Getafix soaked it in the bucket of cold water, wrung it out, folded it, and then gently placed it against Cacofonix's flushed forehead. The bard inhaled sharply at the sudden cold, but he settled quickly, remaining asleep. The two conscious Gauls and the druid remained silent for a long while, just glad for the quiet that proved everything was alright, at least for the moment. Then, hessetantly, Unhygenix spoke up softly, as if afraid to talk at all. Afraid of breaking the spell of calm and peace.

"Do...Do you really think he's lost his...his voice, Gatafix?"

It was the first time any of them had mentioned the bard's condition in that area since Getafix had first told them. They had skirted around the issue, finding it to tragic to even consider. But there, in the silence, the still slightly uneven pattern of Cacofonix's breathing brought the problem back to light. The druid's face filled with sadness and regret, wishing for all the world that he could allay their fears, but he could not. "I am afraid that it is a very large possability. We will only know for sure when he awakens. If he can speak, then my suspisions would have been groundless, and all will be well."

"And if he can't?" Unhygienix pushed anxiously.

Getafix signed. "If he can't...There is really nothing I can do."

Fulliautomatix shook his head in silent denile, glaring down at the dirt packed floor at his feet. He wanted to be mad. He wanted to smash something. Make someone pay for what they had done. But, at the same time, he felt so shocked and weak from the morning's events, he could barely continue being angry, too overcome with concern. "Isn't there...Isn't there something you can do?" Fullautomatix whispered. "A spell, maybe? Or a powder or potion?"

"I'm afraid not," the druid winced, echoes of his uselessness ringing out in his mind. What kind of druid was he, if he couldn't even help his friends? It made him angry, most of all at himself. "I cannot do a thing without the proper potions. And, even then, there are some injuries that I just cannot heal. I could use them to ease his pain; quicken his healing. But that is all. Only time will tell what damage has been truly done."

"And we can't go...get more?" Unhygienix asked timidly. "You're all out of potions you say. Why don't we just go out there and-"

Gatafix gave the fishmonger a troubled look, cutting him off. "Whatever did this to Cacofonix is dangerous. It would be unwise to leave the village before we know what we're up against. I will not have any more of you hurt."

Fulliautomatix frowned. "But Cacofonix-"

"Will be fine," the druid interupted gently, "For now. I will do what I can." He carefully removed the wet cloth from Cacofonix's forehead, resubmerging it in the cool water before wringing it out and placing it back, fresh and cool against the bard's burning fever. Fullautomatix and Unhygenix hung there heads sadly, feeling defeated and helpless. Getafix watched their tired, worried expressions, shifting his own concern to them now. They had both been through a lot that morning. The Gauls, maybe excluding Asterix, were not used to the violence of the world outside the safety of their village. Sometimes Getafix frowned upon it, believing that their ignorance might give them more confidence than was good for them. This incident proved that. When met with disaster, they had handled it with all the courage and strength they could muster. But it had left them shocked, frightened, and shaky. And that was what Getafix was seeing in Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix right now.

Rising from the cot, the druid moved to lay a hand on both their shoulders, regaining their exhausted attentions. "Go," Gatafix urged kindly, reading their hidden wish to leave. "I'll stay with Cacofonix. Your families are probably worried about you, as I can see you are worried about them." He smiled at their suprise, knowing he had made the right decision. As much as the two Gauls didn't want to admit it, Gatafix was perfectly right. While their main concern the last few hours had been Cacofonix, thoughts of their families had been simmering in the backs of their minds, making their anxiety greater without them even realizing it. And so, after making sure that they truly weren't needed and that Getafix would be alright until they came back, the two left to go find their wives and children, a great sense of relief filling them as they finally were free to do so.

Gatafix remained at the wounded bard's bedside, watching until Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix were gone from his sight. He carefully moved back and sat on the cot-side again, refreshing the cloth with cold water once more before placing it back on his friend's forehead. Each time he did so he was unnerved by how quickly the cool, wet cloth was warmed by the bard's temperature. He shook his head sadly, unable to get the image out of his mind of the bard, long ago, as a little, blond-haired boy. Getafix had helped raise him, as had all the villagers. Cacofonix, unlike any of the others, had no family to speak of. His mother had died when he was little more than two years of age, and his father had abandoned him shortly after. Despite this, the bard had grown to be just as determined and strong-willed as his fellow Gauls, and that was something that Getafix was truly grateful for. Getafix, as it was with all the younger generation of the village, from Vitalstitistix all the way down to Asterix and Obelix, felt like a second father to them all. He cared for them, had seen them grow from squabbling children to brave and steadfast adults. To see any of them, as he saw Cacofonix now, was heartbreaking. Getafix tried not to let his emotions get the best of him as he stared down at their injured friend.

"Who could have done this?"

I'm back! Yeah, I know it's been a while. Sorry. I have a bad habit of writing several stories at once (or at least starting them), and I had to put at least one of them on the back burner for a while. Unfortunately, this one was the unlucky candidate. I plan to finish this one now, so for anyone who was waiting, I'm sorry for the delay. :) And thank you for your patience!

This chapter has been REWRITTEN as of 2/9/2016!