Cacafonix sat motionless on the bedside as Gatafix changed the old bandage around his wounded side. No matter how careful the druid was being, Gatafix knew it had to hurt. The skin was healing, but still looked terribly irritated. Splotches of bright pink contrasted with the pale white flesh around it. Yet, even as he gently lay the clean linen against the painful-looking burn, Cacafonix did not even flinch.

The bard's mind was filled with questions he knew he couldn't express. It was as if losing his voice was like losing all connection with the world around him. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. A heavy weight seemed to have settled in his heart. It was an ache; a sensation he had never felt before. A deep bitterness swirled there as well, or maybe it was just plain anger. An anger that was aimless, not directed at anything, and yet was there, demanding to be expressed. He was mad, but didn't seem to have the energy or will to direct it at any one focus. It was just there. The emotions made him dizzy and confused. A mess of intense emotion that thundered within him, but on the outside was completely calm.

Gatafix gently finished tying off the clean linen he had wrapped around the bard's side, careful not to secure it too tightly. The druid was watching Cacafonix, and what he saw worried him.

When he had discovered his loss of voice, Cacafonix had panicked. It had taken both Gatafix and Fullautomatix a full hour to calm him down. Now, he just sat there, staring into space. He just seemed to go blank, not reacting to anything they said or did. But Gatafix knew that Cacafonix was indeed feeling something. He had simply become so focused on his inner thoughts and emotions that he had outwardly shut down. It was the bard's way of coping; this Gatafix knew. And, for the moment, it was working.

The bard was dissociating himself from his troubles, which, while helping to keep Cacafonix calm, wasn't necessarily healthy. Holding one's emotions inside never was, and eventually they would force their way to the surface.

Fullautomatix still stood by the bedside. He looked completely worn. His blond hair was ruffled and untidy. He looked different without his characteristic apron tied about his waist, making his clothes hang rather loosely about his tired frame. He leaned against the bedpost, struggling to keep his eyes open. Sleep threatened to overtake him, but he fought to keep it at bay.

The blacksmith observed Cacafonix with worry. The bard seemed so distant. It just didn't sit well with Fullautomatix. Cacafonix was normally a very outgoing personality, who never had trouble making himself heard.

Gatafix finished and stepped back with a sigh.

"How long will he stay like...this?" Fullautomatix asked, gesturing toward the slumped figure.

The druid shook his head. "I really can't tell you for certain. He's feeling overwhelmed by what has happened in the last two days. He doesn't know how to deal with it. That's why he's become so...unresponsive."

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

Again Gatafix sighed. "Not without my potions. The only thing we really can do is make him comfortable. He's in a state of shock, but I fear that may not be all."

Fullautomatix ran a hand through his ruffled hair. "Why am I not surprised." Everything had been going wrong lately; why shouldn't this be any different?

"He went through a terrible ordeal the night his tree burned down," Gatafix continued. "It is more than likely that there will be some repercussions from it."

"Repercussions?"

"He may suffer some rather less than pleasant traumatic symptoms. In fact, his odd condition at this moment might be attributed to that very thing."

Fullautomatix wasn't completely sure what that meant, but he knew it couldn't be good. "Then he will snap out of this?"

"Oh, I have no doubt he will," Gatafix assured him. "When his mind feels ready to face reality." The druid moved over to reach up and grab a bundle of herbs that were hanging above him. They, unfortunately, had no magical or medicinal properties. Taking it down, Gatafix paused, gazing at the tough, green shrubs in his hands. "When he does 'snap' out of this," he said softly, "He is going to need us to help him...maybe even more than now. His life's been turned upside down, Fullautomatix...and that is a difficult journey to travel alone."

"He won't be alone," the blacksmith said, his own quiet voice matching the druid's low one. He sat down on the cot beside Cacafonix. The bard didn't even bat an eye.

...

Obelix was never one to be particularly agitated. He was a simple soul, who didn't understand much of the world and how it worked, but that had never bothered him. To Obelix, life was a colorful place, full of tasty wild boar and plenty of harmless Romans to pound. Life was good; peaceful. Safe.

That frail image had been shattered.

Obelix sat on the shaded bench outside of Asterix's hut, staring at the dirt beneath his feet, hands hanging limply in front of him. The world felt dimmed and void. Worry ate away at him. Worry for Cacafonix. Worry for Panacea. Worry for Asterix. Worry for everyone. Suddenly the world didn't seem like the wonderful place it had once appeared to be.

Asterix sat on the seat beside his large friend. He was dwarfed next to Obelix's immense height and girth, but even as far as normal Gauls went, Asterix was very small. His feet didn't even touch the ground when he sat on the wooden bench. His hands were clasped loosely in front of him, settled between his knees. The wings on his helmet drooped low, adding to the sad appearance his posture suggested.

The blond haired Gaul was deep in thought, also occupied with the ground beneath him, as he strove to come up with a plan; anything that might get them out of their desperate situation.

"Asterix, we're in big trouble, aren't we?"

Asterix nodded slowly, without looking up. "Yes." His voice made him seem even smaller. He stared off into the distance, silent for a moment. The sky was still overcast, not allowing much light through the haze, but what little did make it through warmed him. Birds chirped in the forest, and, every once in a while, a gull could be heard out at sea. It was a peaceful day, as far as outward displays were concerned, but beneath it all Asterix knew everything was not alright.

They had all been told by Fullautomatix about Cacafonix walking through the village that morning. How the bard had managed to get as far as his tree, no one could guess. Their friend was awake now...at least, to a degree. But there was also Panacea...How was she faring? They didn't even know. She could be hurt. She could already be dead...

Suddenly Asterix slammed his fist down on the pine bench. The rough impact hurt, but he ignored it. "We've got to do something, Obelix," he declared. "We've got to at least try!"

His outburst made the larger Gaul jump in surprise. "But if we try anything the Romans will..." he couldn't even finish.

"We'll all die if we don't find a way out of this, Obelix."

The big Gaul nodded slowly. Asterix was right of course. He was right, but that didn't mean Obelix had to like the idea. Quite frankly, the well-covered Gaul hated it. Not only because doing practically anything risked Panacea's life, but because he knew who would insist on volunteering. Asterix would go. Asterix always went. Always put himself in harm's way, and it bothered Obelix terribly. He looked down at his friend. The blond Gaul was deep in thought again, absent-mindedly stroking Dogmatix, who sat between them.

The black and white dog could sense the village's anxiety. He could feel anger, confusion and fear emanating from every Gaul, and it made the tiny canine very uncomfortable. And then there was his master. Never before had Dogmatix sensed such strong, negative emotions coming from Obelix. It was rather frightening. Oh, he had seen Obelix mad, but it had always been an almost childish kind of anger. The type that dissolves quickly and didn't have all that much force behind it.

This time it was different. Obelix was truly mad. Very mad. But also sad and anxious. Dogmatix could feel it; sense it. Even though the pup could not fully understand why his master was in such a state, Dogmatix knew he must stay near him at all times. Obelix would need him.

Asterix, on the other hand, was another case entirely. The feelings coming from him were ones Dogmatix had felt from him in times past. Fear mixed with frustration mostly, but with a very strong underlying current of guilt. The little Gaul handled his job as village warrior quite seriously. Whenever something went wrong he always took it very hard, as if it had been his fault. As if he were the one to blame, even when there was nothing he could have done. While everyone else's emotions were directed at the enemy; their fear; their anger; Asterix's were always directed at himself. Blaming himself. Convincing himself that if any enemy existed to the Gauls, it was his inability to keep them all safe. It fueled him. Made him fight harder. But Dogmatix could sense it often hurt him a great deal.

This was one of those times.

Dogmatix leaned into the blond Gaul's warm, gentle touch. He wanted to comfort both humans, but wasn't sure how. For now he'd just have to be there for them. And for the moment, that was enough.

Asterix's eyes scanned around him, hoping for inspiration to strike him. He didn't have long to wait. As he brought up a mental image of the village in his mind, Asterix realized there was still one place they could go through to get outside the gates. It would still be risky, but something had to be done. They were already two days short of the week the Romans had given them.

He leapt to his feet, grabbing his friend's hand in an effort to haul him up as well. "Obelix, we need to gather the others! I've got an idea!"

In the distance, over the sea behind the village, a gull gave a high-pitched call.

...

Just a short chapter to keep things moving. :)

The feelings Cacafonix is experiencing in the beginning of this chapter are based on some emotions I was struggling with a few months ago. A very close friend of mine went through something terrible, something no one should ever have to go through. When I found out, I experienced much what Cacafonix is. My mind seemed to get caught into a loop of despair, aimless anger, and disbelief, while on the outside I just kind of locked up.

As for Asterix blaming himself for troubled times when he isn't to blame, that too comes from my experience. I tend to blame myself for other people's suffering, even when I was in no way connected to what happened. I feel that if I had just been there to protect them, even if that meant me getting hurt too, then things might have turned out alright.

But I know everything happens for a reason. God doesn't cause suffering, but he does sometimes allow it. Sometimes we need to go through hard times, so we come out stronger. God knows that. It's like getting a flu shot, a little bit of the disease, so that later we can stand and fight against the real thing.

Wow. Sorry, that was deep. Sometimes you just need to write something out, you know? Especially if you usually hold it all inside.

Alright, back to the story...