“Cateline.” The name was a whisper on her lips as her memories were instantly all back. They did not suddenly come rushing into her mind like water into a cup. Instead, it was as if a veil had been lifted and everything was just there, where it had always been. And it wasn’t the appearance of her sister that did it. It was the old nickname Cat had used. Sorry, a bastardization of her true name that she’d always hated. Probably because it was usually followed by the taunting, “Sorry Sorcha, such a sorry creature.”
