Ouroboros Spine my father bleeds history

So full of food. So good. Much nap.

No, he had heard him clearly. It was disorienting. The odds were astronomical, or at least he wanted to believe. That name was very familiar, even if time had warped the memory beyond his firmest recognition. Mordecai had a few fond memories of their time together in Sedona, but like many things, he did not recall the bulk of them. There was too much in the way of it, too many other memories and past decisions that had long drowned the tales of his youth.

He scoffed, but more to clear his throat. There was a tinge of disbelief to it, as though he still wasn't sure of it all. Perhaps he wasn't. “Do you remember me? It's been a long time,” and Mordecai wouldn't fault him for not remembering. “I can't say I know the odds of meeting another Ostrega here.” For as far north as they had come from Sedona, whenever they had come, it seemed that in some minute way they had all been drawn in by the same unknown, guiding force.