"Can't believe we finished the cabin wall today," Cherry smiled at the men gathered around the fireplace as the sunset, "I'm happier to have company tonight."

"We're glad not to have to drive down that mountain after a day like today," Silas said, raising his whiskey glass to Cherry and chuckling, "it will be nice to be out of town tonight."

Tyron looked at Steve, "You okay there?"

"A little stiff," Steve groaned as he pushed out of the chair and wandered to the coffee table to refill his whiskey glass, "I don't remember the last time I hammered so many planks together. Good call on not putting that box back in the same spot."

"It has to be somewhere that Cherry can find it," Tyron said, sipping his whiskey, "what do you think of the whiskey, Cherry?"

Cherry looked down at the golden liquid in her glass, breathing in the smell, "Something about it is familiar, and it tastes... nice but bitter."

The men chuckled, "You used to say the same thing when we brought supplies from town and stayed over to help with the maintenance of anything that needed doing."

"Didn't my dad do anything around here?" Cherry asked, frowning, "I remember him teaching me to wield a hammer, drive a nail, measure, saw, and so many other things."

The two older men looked at each other before shaking their heads. Steve frowned as he slowly returned to the sitting area.

"I don't remember your dad being very handy with anything," he said, groaning as he lowered himself into the chair. "Maybe he was handy when you were younger."

Cherry stared at the three men, wondering why the older two said nothing. Didn't they remember her father? Indeed they must have known him for who he was? She couldn't see her mother being with someone who couldn't hold his own in a place like this.

"What do you remember about my father?" she asked, looking between Tyron and Silas.

"The man who called himself your father couldn't shoot a gun or saw a plank or be of use to anyone if they were injured," Silas said. "That being said, he was generous and happy to have us staying here over weekends and helping out where he was unable."

"The man who called himself my father?" Cherry murmured, the question delivered with a concerned frown, "which means the man who was always here with mom and I wasn't my true father ... he wasn't a blood relative."

Silence followed her words as the older men stared at each other before Tyron shrugged and sighed.

"We made a promise," Silas muttered, "we keep the promise."

"If what we think is happening," Tyron said, "she needs to know. Can't you see she is already adding things up and coming up with an equation with missing pieces?"

"Are you talking about the coming-of-age ritual?" Steve asked, frowning into space.

"Coming of age?" Cherry whispered, "how old do you think I am? I'm turning twenty-six; my twenty-first was years ago."

"In this world, that would be true. Your heritage is kept safe by the cabin and the lands in your family," Tyron said. "The trust that was set up holds the liquid heritage, but the rest is attached to the ritual. It's no coincidence you're here now ... remembering things as they truly were, desiring more than what you have and returning to the land."

"Which world am I from?" Cherry asked, leaning forward in her chair, "is that why I feel like a misfit?"

"Possibly," Tyron said, "your parents took us into their confidence when you were a baby and promised that we would protect your and make sure you returned to your roots."

"The cabin and land are my roots," Cherry said, "what else did they tell you?"

"Your aversion to the Tenderhook family isn't based on anything they are doing in this world but rather yours," Silas said. "They are despicable people with no morals, but they want to control you for one reason only ..." Silas glanced at Tyron before continuing, "to control your heritage."

"How can they control me?" Cherry asked, looking at the three men who went strangely silent and sipped at their drinks, "is someone going to tell me, or do I find out for myself?"

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"The last time you went looking for answers was five years ago, and you went missing," Silas said, "that story about the car accident was fed to you by the Tenterhooks. They have various companies at their disposal, but none were acquired legally or morally."

"Why would these monsters want anything to do with my parents?" Cherry asked, "why would they want my ... heritage. What is my heritage?"

"That we do not know," Silas said, "but it has to do with this mountain, cabin and the town."

Cherry frowned, "It's frustrating," she sighed, "it's as though the knowledge is just out of reach, and I cannot get to it."

"Perhaps now would be a good time to give her the book," Steve said, staring at his grandfather. "Reading about her heritage and history will help her bridge the gap."

"How do we know she isn't modified?" Tyron said, "she may be one of those others and then what happens when the real Cherry shows up, and the ritual has already been done."

Cherry stared at the room as the memory played out instead of reality, "You've had this conversation before."

Silence met her words. The three men shifted as Cherry walked toward the fireplace, absently putting another log on the already roaring fire before turning to the room.

"My parents were here," she said, looking around the room with a glazed stare, "my real parents, not the ones in the pictures. You were talking about them coming back and being modified ... by the Tenderhook brothers."

"I think she's remembering," Silas whispered, "is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"We will only know when she gets to the part ...." Tyron paused as Cherry gasped.

"It was the night I was dragged into the woods," she said, moving toward the front door and blindly opening it. "My real father tried to stop them, but they shot him," she moved onto the porch looking to the right, " he lay here with my mother kneeling next to him, trying to save his life. They dragged me through there and kept me at a cottage ... like a princess under siege."

Cherry blinked as the memory faded. She remembered everything ... turning toward the three men standing in the living room, looking at her cautiously.

"Why do you think I'll behave irrationally?" Cherry asked, her voice holding a note of authority she didn't remember having before.

"What is your name?" Silas asked, stepping forward.

"My name is ..." Cherry paused, shaking her head as the last part of the wall around her memories fell and flooded her mind. Memories, knowledge, reasons for choices she had supposedly randomly made ... and ... her name filled the void.

"Cherry Bassett," Cherry said, watching Silas sigh and begin to turn away sadness in his eyes and the droop of his mouth. "Wait ... Cherry Anastasia Madeleine Nadesha Odelette Neala Bassett."

"That is a long name," Steve murmured, jumping as Silas' head snapped in her direction, his gaze focused and earnest.

"What does it mean?" he asked.

"What does what mean?" Cherry asked, confusion running through her, shaking her head as memories collided with each other, "hectic ..." she gasped, holding onto the door frame.

"What do your names mean?" Silas demanded, "tell me in order."

"Dad, maybe you need to give her a moment," Tyron said, "it looks like the floodgates have opened ."

"It's now or never," Silas said, "tell me the meaning of your names in order."

Cherry gasped as she looked for the meaning of the names she had just sprouted out of nowhere.

"The meaning of Sherry spelt with a CH is ..." she dropped to her knees, panting. "White meadow. Anastasia means resurrection ..." she propped herself against the door holding her head. "Nadeleine means a ray of hope ... Nadesha ...oh my head," she panted.

"Finish the meanings," Silas said, "take back your own control ... take back your heritage."

Nodding, Cherry panted, closed her eyes and inhaled. Focussing on the stream this information was flowing from.

"Natasha means ... she who was born of a river. Odelette means the guardian of mankind ... and Neala means .... oh my head," she gasped, holding her head, groaning, "Neala means supporter, titleholder, winner, campaigner.

Silas placed his hand on top of her head, stroking her head gently. Cherry frowned as the pain subsided, and he slowly knelt next to her.

"CANNON Basset, it's time to take your place in history," he whispered near her ear, "it's time to find your world."

Cherry groaned as the last piece of the mental wall crumbled. Slowly she sank to the ground unconscious.

"What did you do?" Steve asked, looking at his grandfather.

"Nothing too bad, just repeated what her father asked me to when she got to that point," Silas said.

Tyron looked at his father, "Cherry is not an ordinary woman, is she?"

Silas shook his head, "She is not," he sighed, "and her parents are not ordinary people."

"Are her real parents alive?" Steve asked.

"Yes, and they are in hiding," Silas smiled, "the only reason the Tenderhooks have not been able to take over their land and cabin as completely as they designed."

"What is going on between the two families?" Tyron asked, "there used to be a large Bassett family and then suddenly they were down to three."

"True," Silas said, "but they didn't die, rather retired."

"Retired where?" Tyron asked, looking around as though they would appear from the wooden walls.

"Cherry will be able to tell you once she follows her history," Silas said, "will one of you please put her on one of the sleeping bags near the fire. We have work to do."