Cüneyt managed to drag his kebab cart along a path through the vast grounds he'd been told his cousin Mehmet was living on. He spotted a cottage that he figured was the gardener's; it had shovels, hoes, and wheelbarrows in front of it. With a contented sigh, he steeled himself to drag the cart the rest of the way.

He'd tried to make his living selling kebabs in London, then York, but his business just failed to bring in enough money to keep him afloat. Plus, there was that infernal bird that had started following him in York and haunted him everywhere he went, like some kind of demon. Luckily, he'd gotten away from the city; there was no reason it would follow him here.

He parked his cart in front of his cousin's cottage and went to knock on the door. There was no answer at first.

He heard a hoot.

That bird had parked itself right on his kebab cart.

Cüneyt shouted at the top of his lungs, "SİKTİR GİT, BAYKUŞ!"