"They don't like light," M. said. "Sunlight," Ayşe interrupted angrily, her every word the man spoke seemed to grate on his nerves. Artificial light has no effect on them, that's not what's stopping them from entering, you should have known that, Berivan said. Ayşe looked at him in disbelief. Could she accept this as truth? Her seriousness, and the restlessness that kept the man from standing still, were unmistakable. What he was telling her was unbelievable, like a fantasy ripped from the pages of a cheap horror novel. We won't leave here until sunrise, Muhammad said. Ayşe stood up, her knees knotting with fatigue; even if she hadn't leaned against the wall, she wouldn't have been able to get up. The man watched her intently, as if he were about to put on a spectacular performance just for fun. It was a miracle he managed to get up. He took a step closer to the cave entrance, then hesitated. "Come on," the man said. "What are you waiting for?" Ayşe tried to extract meaning from the darkness, but in that black void, she could discern nothing but mystery and anticipation. —“You must stay away from the cave entrance,” Berivan said. Ayşe sat with her knees bent and her head in her hands, fighting the tears that waited for the signal to burst. The fear of death had bewildered her senses. The last five minutes had weakened the ability to think rationally, which had taken a lifetime to develop. “Oh, Jiyan,” Ayşe said, “did we wake you?” “Leave her alone,” M. said. Tangled red hair emerged from under the pile of blankets. She looked as if she had just woken from hibernation; for a moment, she had forgotten where she was. How wonderful that moment was. She ran her tongue across her lips and yawned like a cat waking up for dinner after nine lifetimes of sleep. Ayşe tried to pull her sketchbook out of her bag. It was a familiar urge, this was what she needed to calm herself right now. As she searched for something to calm her tremors, Jiyan's eyes caught her eye. Her eyes were like jewels set on a broach on the woman's elegant face. Her mouth was small but shaped by her magnificent lips, her hair. Magnificent. It was messy. Ayşe began rummaging through the bag on her shoulder. Berivan's eyes were instantly drawn to its contents. She approached slowly, like a heron chasing her breakfast. Here you go, Ayşe, said. She desperately wanted to drink that water. There's not much left, Ayşe said. I'm sure it'll be enough to last us until morning. Berivan walked forward cautiously. She reached out her long arm from under her shawl and took the bottle as a wild animal might snatch a bite of food from a stranger's hand. Thank you, Ayşe, Berivan said, placing the water in the hole next to her. Shall we eat something now? Berivan divided the fruit among them, giving everyone an equal share. It wasn't enough for any of them, yet they had nothing else. She was gone, no longer like an evil stepmother. No matter how chaotic, the days had settled into a routine. She remembered the saying: order arises from chaos; chaos arises from disorder. They had become a family, bound together not by blood but by the desire to survive. The question of how they hadn't died was hardly a suitable topic for dinner conversation.