Ouroboros Spine my father bleeds history

Feel free to hop in at any time, Chelsie!

The soft padding of feet behind him were enough to give away his stalker, and Viggo soon slowed, turning to face his follower. At first, he was at a loss for words. There was something oddly familiar about the wolf who stood before him, and yet Viggo could not place it. He felt as though they had met before, but he could not recall a name, and he had not met him here, in the spine. Golden eyes blinked at the other, and he pushed away any notion that he might know who this was.

Viggo dropped the rabbit in front of him, and then pushed it toward the nameless, golden-eyed male. “It was meant for Ptarmigan, but I think it would do better as a peace offering.” His words were said with the utmost sincerity. The Ostrega stepped back from the gift, letting his pack-mate know that he was playing no tricks here. “I am Viggo Ostrega,” he added, figuring that introductions were in order, and not realizing that the name would bring back memories for both of them.