They had recovered surprisingly well. Neither one of them were particularly certain how near-death experiences worked - one of the heads, Henry, had died - which sent them back into the chrysalis and hidden under a pile of rocks. They had survived, but barely.

His brother's face never left Mordecai's head. He seemingly thought about it in every waking moment; the rock nearing his face and soon impaling the snake's head. The blood pouring out from his brother's face. How he stopped smiling a millisecond before death.

It was not uncommon for him to have nightmares about it. The scene would play out, to the point where Mordecai could tell he was dreaming, in a nightmare. He had to be, after all. He'd never let that happen again to his brother. Regardless, every time the rock hit his brother, Henry's bloody, agonized face would turn to him. It's your fault, it would say, over and over again until Mordecai forced his eyes open.

He wanted to forget. He wanted to move on. But he couldn't.

Time had passed since they re-emerged, but Morty couldn't ever look him in the eyes. Not that he did that prior to his death, anyway, but it was different this time. There was a certain look in Morty's face that told Henry was something wrong.

But, whenever he asked about it, he was usually shot down immediately. Nothing's wrong. Mind your own damn business, Morty would say. Henry would often wonder to himself - wasn't his brother's business his business, too? They shared a body and everything in it - a stomach, lungs, bones, a heart. Why would he ever draw the line at something as menial as his business?

Henry wondered for a moment - he couldn't recall what happened before he woke up in the familiar dark chrysalis. Perhaps something happened to Morty that gave him his own private business while Henry was sleeping.

Yeah. That was it.

The scar. By god, the dastardly thing that had killed his brother had ruined his face.

Mordecai couldn't help but stare at it. It was a reminder that he could appreciate his brother; be careful what he wished for and not to... well, be a general asshole to Heinrich. He tried his best. He longed for his own privacy but the consequences of that privacy scared him to death.

What also scared him was that Heinrich didn't even seem to care. As if he didn't even know he had tasted death and Mordecai had to watch it. Perhaps, in fact, it was for the better, but Mordecai didn't even have the heart to tell him what happened.

He didn't have the heart to tell him why he can't look at him.

Heinrich's face was covered in a thick layer of scar tissue, planted directly on his forehead and sprawling down around his eyes. He didn't know how his brother wasn't blind; it somehow, miraculously, missed his eyes. On his neck, leading up to his jaw, was more scars. The exit wound.

He couldn't let him know. He couldn't let him see. He tried to lead him away from water all the time, but...

They had to drink. He made the effort to pick muddier waters, in hope that Heinrich would never see the permanent mark on his face. If he had already seen it, he made every attempt to hide it from Mordecai.

A part of Mordecai hoped that he had, so he wouldn't ever have to explain it to him.

It was quiet. Henry supposed that Polaris was their home now - many times they'd stop here for the night and curl into a dark corner, body twisted around rocks that would block out the blue light of the Spire.

Regardless, Henry couldn't sleep. He didn't know if Morty was awake or not - his eyes were closed but he didn't seem at peace like people normally did when they slept, but he never did even when he was asleep anymore.

The scarred head shifted and a fork tongue slid out from his mouth. "Morty," he murmured quietly. His voice hadn't changed at all; dumbly upbeat with the slightest of hissing to it. "Morty, are you awake?"

In that moment, the other head shifted and one eye slid open. It stared into his brother for a moment and Henry noticed his tongue slide out briefly, too. "I'm awake," his brother said. He sounded as he always did, too - tired and raspy, as if the weight of the spire itself were on his shoulders. "What is it?"

"I'm hungry," came the soft reply.

Of course Heinrich was hungry - they shared a belly, after all. Mordecai knew they were hungry. He wasn't angry that Heinrich had told him what he already knew - it was common for him to do again. He couldn't risk getting angry. He couldn't risk seeing his brother like that again.

Mordecai quickly shook off the thoughts.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked.
"Fish."
"..Fish? Why?" Mordecai frowned somewhat.

Henry didn't know why he wanted fish, specifically. It wouldn't be hard for them to hunt it - they had developed fins, for swimming, presumably. They could do it and finding new foods to eat would be great fun.

Morty would like fish, maybe. He wasn't sure. He himself hadn't tried it before.

Before Morty could even open his mouth, Henry was beginning to slither out from the rocks and boulders they called their home. He squinted at the bright blue light of Polaris and noticed that his brother was doing the same. The scarred head nodded slightly, more to himself.

And off he went.

Fish meant water. He couldn't let him go. "Heinrich," he tried not to snap at his brother. "Rats are easier to catch. Why won't be catch rats?""

"I don't want rats," the scarred head said simply. They continued to slither on until Mordecai could hear the sound of rushing water. He hissed, somewhat.

He tried all he could to stop Heinrich from advancing forwards, tugging and pulling against the body. He couldn't let him see his own face - he had to protect his own brother from his face.

Morty was being weird. He was tugging and yanking his own head away from him. "Why?" he said. The word only really made sense to him, as he watched Morty crane his head back to look at him.

That look again. Why did he keep looking at him like that? His brother shook his head and turned, continuing to pull. "We have to go this way," he said.
"Why?"
"The water is better over here."

Henry sure couldn't argue with that! He didn't notice the sigh of relief leaving his brother's maw as he turned and began to slither to where his brother had been yanking him - which, strangely enough - was away from the sound of rushing water and the splashing of fish.

Henry trusted his brother enough to lead him to the right place, anyway.

Mordecai didn't know where he was going or what he was going to do now. All he knew was that he couldn't let Heinrich know about the scars adorning his face. The head slowly closed his eyes as Heinrich continued along the rock.

He had to think. Maybe they'd run into a rat over here; but what if Heinrich ignored it? What then?

One way or another, Heinrich was going to see his face. Perhaps it was pointless to stop his brother from seeing himself - perhaps he'd have to tell him anyway. It was going to come anyway. Slowly, the snake opened his eyes and glanced at his brother.

Heinrich turned and flashed his usual, big dumb smile at him. Mordecai promptly turned away. He'd have to brace himself for it.

Henry turned his head. The sound of water had started to fade away, but then it suddenly got louder again. He nodded, somewhat, knowing that his brother had indeed taken him to another part of the river - though it was a little out of the way.

Maybe more fish gathered here. He wasn't sure.

Henry turned and began to slither towards the sound, content.
"Where are you going?" his brother asked, surprise.
"The water."
"Why?"
"For the fish."

He heard his brother grunt quietly, perhaps irritated, next to him. He didn't mind it - it was a sound he often heard in conversations between the two. He just concentrated on getting himself to the river, thinking briefly about how to catch a fish.