Indiana Jones and the Daring Daughter

Chapters

1: Panamanian Rainforest, 1920
2: Safe Travels, 1920
3: Florida, 1920
4: Chicago, 1920
5: Mentors, 1920
6: Intelligent Life, 1920
7: Take Flight, 1920-1921
8: To Egypt, 1921
9: Real Archaeology, 1922
10: Paris, 1923-1924
11: Pacific Ocean, 1925-1926
12: Overboard, 1926
13: Adrift, 1926
14: Oxford, 1927
15: Bedford, Connecticut, 1927-1928
16: Thunderclaps and Whip Cracks, 1928
17: Love Language, 1928
18: The First Daring-Do, Part 1, 1929
19: The First Daring-Do, Part 2, 1929
20: Richard, 1930
21: Johan, 1931
22: Marcus, 1932
23: Henry, 1933-1934
24: Shanghai, 1935
25: Short Round, 1935
26: Ningpo, 1935
27: Nurhachi, 1935
28: Anything Goes, 1935
29: Slalom Down Mt Humol, 1935
30: Mayapore, 1935
31: Fortune and Glory, 1935
32: Pankot Palace, 1935
33: Guardian of Tradition, 1935

1: Panamanian Rainforest, 1920

A young man stalked through the Panamanian rainforest, clothes torn up by days of journey through thicket and growth. The harsh buzz of insects filled the air, the cry of the macaws shrilled from the dense canopy, and the constant sound of life bustling between the undergrowth overwhelmed the senses. An oppressive atmosphere of humidity and darkness enclosed all around the weary man as he stepped over roots and found his footing unsteadily between furrowed terrain and clumps of rotting plant matter. The only light in the jungle came from slats of orange, rising sunlight peeking through the gaps in the canopy.

Indiana Jones sighed as he stopped, his threadbare socks chafing against his feet in his boots as he leaned against a nearby tree.

He ached all over, his frame was bruised from where Montechello's gang had laid a beatdown on him, and he itched at mosquito bites that covered his skin. He was covered head to toe in mud and grime, almost every article of clothing clung to his body in shredded rags. Even his fedora was sagging.

Reaching a quivering hand into his bag, he once again found his flask of water dreadfully missing. He had lost his canteen the previous night when running from some sort of jungle predator, and hadn't had a solid meal since leaving Panama City four days ago. Blinking the blurriness from his eyes, he rooted around at the bottom, past the paltry set of tools that had seemed so useful when he bought them, but had turned out to be no match for the forest. Finally, he pulled out a small strip of cloth, marked with faded paint.

He passed his swollen, painfully dry tongue across his chapped lips. He had passed the river marked on the first part of the manuscript - unfortunately it was too filthy to dare drink from. In all honesty, Indiana wished he could muster the courage to turn around and quench his thirsts anyway, he was probably going to die from jungle fever if he ever got out of the rainforest. The next part of the ancient, cloth map hinted at the presence of some sort of pyramid, not too far from here.

Indiana curled up the cloth once again, placing it back in his bag. He looked up at the sky. The sun still pointed him in the right direction - due west of the first landmark. He had to be going in the right direction. Who knew, maybe the Clock had some sort of magical powers that would heal him on touch.

Against the protests of his blistering feet, aching legs, and burning throat, Indiana pushed himself off the tree he had leaned against and marched onwards. Every few minutes, he looked back up at the sun, trying to stay on course as it rose in the sky. He knew he had a dominant foot, and would generally wander to the right subconsciously, knocking him off course. His positively delirious brain would do him no favors, but he attempted to power through nonetheless.

Indiana's mind went back to the Somme; to the mud sucking around his feet, to the screams of the men, to the blasts of artillery shells and the rats wallowing in the dugouts. He thought he'd die then. He wasn't going to die now.

...If only he believed that kind of lie. The trees were blending in with each other around him. He was so far out of his depth... he dipped his head in frustration and plodded forward, wishing he'd stayed in Chicago. His eyes were directly downwards, focused on stepping over roots and avoiding dips in the uneven ground. Consumed by his thoughts, he failed to look up at the rock face he was quickly approaching.

Indiana stubbed his toe.

He couldn't even muster the energy to shout, and cringed in pain as he fell over backwards. The delicate embrace of a wooden patch of thornbushes graced his head as he fell, and blood trickled from several burning points along his back and neck.

"Ow, ow! Damn!" Indiana swore as he rolled over, shakily steadying himself as he shuffled over to escape the thorns and sat upright in a patch of less-thorny underbrush. Though, as he looked towards what he had run into, his eyes widened with hope.

Before him, a giant disruption in the generally flat nature of the rainforest around him towered into the sky. A large escarpment of stone, triangular in shape, around fifty yards or so in every direction. A few, distant rainforest trees escaped the canopy by sitting on top of the escarpment, and their giant, tangled roots shot downwards around the stone to the ground below for water and nutrients. He could see the lines of bricks underneath the overgrowth. It had to be a pyramid of some kind, artificially made. Without the map's vague directions, a passerby may have even just walked by it, assuming it to be an odd hill.

Breathless, Indiana Jones pulled out the cloth again. Its final symbol presented itself to Indiana: an image of a lunar symbol - or perhaps a swirl of some kind, with a star on its tail. He knew what he had to look for next.

Scrambling to his feet, Indiana Jones clutched the cloth in his left hand as he began to walk around the escarpment in a clockwise rotation. His eyes scanned the wall, only occasionally looking downwards to watch his step through the undergrowth. He was almost around to the opposite side of the pyramid from where he originally bumped into it when he found a gap in the roots.

A small cave lead inwards, only just large enough for him to get inside if he crouched. Something metallic glinted in the back of the cave in the light of the morning sun. A swirl with a star was engraved upon the metallic circle. Indiana unfurled the cloth once again, comparing the symbol with the metal: an exact match.

Getting down onto his knees, Indiana crawled inside, going towards the medallion. The cave floor was unusually dry when compared to the moisture of the rainforest soil outside. There were streaks of water he could make out in the shadows, all flowing towards the symbol, despite the fact that the floor was flat.

Shuffling forward, the sleeves on his beige shirt became stained and dirty from the muck on the floor. He stared up at the symbol engraved into the wall. The metal sparkled as he admired it. That yellowish glow... the lack of corrosion... was it gold?

Greedily, he shot his hand forward, scrabbling at the outer edges of the mark, trying to pry it from the wall. However, rather than gain purchase, he felt the mark - no, the button - depress under his fingers.

With a shout, he scrabbled for purchase as the floor gave way beneath him. The trapdoor obscured just below the symbol folded away, and Indiana hit the sloped floor below it with a grunt as he began to slide down deeper into the earth.

As he slid on his belly, trying and failing to grab onto the mud-covered, dim passage he was hurtling down, he paused as he saw what lay at the end of the chute. A vicious pit of spikes lay out before him, gleaming. With a shout, Indiana's life began to flash before his eyes.

His hand shot for his belt.

Indiana's body shot over the edge of the chute, but before he could plunge into the pit, the sound of a whip's crack filled the cave. Indiana's authentic kangaroo leather bullwhip snapped itself around a root clinging to the ceiling of the chute, and he desperately clung onto its handle with his mud-streaked hands as he dangled off the edge.

"Ha... ha... ha...!" Indiana panted as he looked down, his legs flailing over the pit. The wall in front of him was lined with bricks, and he kicked at them with his feet. Some of the bricks gave way, aging mortar unable to keep them secured into the wall. In their place, Indiana found convenient, dry footholds for his feet to go.

Removing only one hand at a time from his whip, he carved out some hand holds for himself, and assessed the situation around him. On the far side of the spike pit, there was flat ground, illuminated by light cast down the slope he slid down. As soon as he felt secure with his hand and footholds, he unravelled his whip and tossed it over the cavern to the safe side.

His muscles roared with pain and exertion as Indiana Jones slowly and cautiously made his way around the cavern via the walls. Finally, he had scaled around to the right side of the wall over the pit, and as soon as the safe surface was in sight, he jumped for it.

Kicking up a cloud of dust and pulling a muscle, Indiana hit the ground and collapsed into a heap. His lungs heaved for air as he sat up to get away from the cloud of dust. Something twinged in his back and his arms and legs ached from the climbing. His fall, he was sure, was going to bring up a new set of bruises along his side.

Lethargically reaching for his whip, Indiana turned around away from the shaft and the pit. It seemed like the passage made a turn up ahead. A promising, warm orange glow shone around the corner. Exhausted, Indiana half-crawled half-stumbled towards the passage.

He could vaguely make out some sort of carvings on the walls. As stuffy as his professor Ravenwood was, Indiana at least appreciated his knowledge - he wished he had somebody like him to decipher the carvings around him. On second thought, perhaps a more experienced man would have thought to bring supplies and a guide with him as well.

As he rounded the corner, the glow became stronger. The passage lead out into some sort of antechamber. The ceiling was tall, and made out of almost completely smoothed stone. Four pillars granted support, each with some sort of statue built into it. Indiana had almost no time nor brainpower to take in the details as his eyes transfixed onto the center of the room.

It was a basin. Above it, a huge glowing rock of some kind cast light into the room, and was dripping with moisture. Said moisture was gathering into the basin below. Clear, fresh-looking water beckoned Indiana forward.

Speed-crawling, he lifted himself painfully up over the edge of the basin, plunging his face into the water. He took large gulps, disregarding the consequences. The water tasted normal, even better than the canteen water he'd drunk yesterday. It was like it was freshly bottled, or perhaps from a recent rainshower.

Coming up from the pool to breathe deeply, puffing and panting. His recent exhaustion stacked neatly with holding his breath, forcing him to lean for a moment on the lip of the pool. He let his right arm hang into the basin, soaking his hand in the water. Retrieving it, he mopped his burning forehead with the cool moisture, before taking another scoop of water from the basin and raising it to his mouth. He repeated it multiple times, hydrating himself.

Indiana's eyelids felt heavy, and he was sorely tempted to pass out right there and then. However, not only was falling asleep in strange surroundings like this probably a bad idea, but the strangest sound met his ears. It sounded like a wail... a baby's cry? Or maybe wind moving through some kind of passage further on?

It took a lot of effort to pick himself off the ground, but he stood shakily, the quenching of his burning thirst giving him some extra will. His right hand shot to his back as he stood, the muscle that had strained when he jumped earlier twinging and twitching crazily. His breath hissed through his teeth, and his hand remained clamped to his back as he stumbled forward.

The walls of the cave, as he had noticed earlier, were no longer walled by brick and mortar. Instead, they were made out of completely smooth, grey stone. The ceiling was irregularly low, and as Indiana approached the sides, where it dipped in slightly, he had to bend his neck to not bump his head. Four pillars once again reinforced the ceiling, and each was adorned with the strangest carved stone statue.

They were horses, but they were very... oddly proportioned. Their heads were too large, their muzzles were too short, and their eyes were massive. Already, the equine sculptures were nothing like any horse Indiana had ever seen, but the long, spiraling unicorn horns on their heads and Pegasus's wings along their sides made them mythical. He was pretty sure Unicorns and the Pegasus were Mediterranean myths... and that there were never horses in Panama before the Europeans arrived.

The cry echoed through the cavern ahead, beckoning Indiana forward. The smoothened stone continued through a small tunnel, one that he'd need to crouch to walk through. His whip was coiled and ready once again. It gave him some confidence as he stalked off towards the tiny entrance. He crouched oh so slowly and carefully, trying not to aggravate his pulled back muscle.

The rim of his fedora brushed against the top of the tunnel. Indiana's breaths came in quick, short pants as the muscle in his back continued to twitch and pulse. More golden light spilled down through the end of the cavern. The crying grew louder. It definitely wasn't wind, or something artificial. Indiana instinctively knew the sounds of a baby's cry.

The height of the corridor began to stretch out ahead, allowing Indiana to stand again.

More of those stones glowed along the walls of the chamber ahead. There were six of them in total, three on the left and three on the right. They stood at the head of yet more pillars of similar design to those before. The stones, rather than dripping moisture like the one positioned above the basin in the last room, were instead perfectly dry. They, in fact, seemed more like finely cut decorative gemstones.

At the far end of the chamber, a staircase spiralled upwards towards the ceiling. More engravings, murals, and sculptures adorned the walls. However, Indiana neither possessed the ability to decipher them, nor the focus to even attempt to do so. At the moment, his eyes were immediately drawn to the center of the room.

The first thing that caught the treasure hunter's eyes was the altar-like object in the middle of the room. Carved from stone, with some elements of timber and bone decoration, the table held a single item, caked in dust and cobwebs. It looked almost like an old pendulum clock, except it was encased in gold. It had three hands, two with the same length and one that was wider and shorter. The one that was wider and shorter was currently in between the other two.

The second thing to catch his eye was the thing making the noise. Lying in the center of the chamber, shivering, wet, and bawling with all the fury of a newborn separated from its mother, was a small furry creature. It had a golden pelt, with a strangely pigmented mane and tail of black and grey colors.

He approached both the creature and the altar, shoes thumping on the stone and echoing throughout the chamber. For a single moment, the tiny creature stopped its wailing and stared up at him. Haunting, rose-colored eyes met his. Indiana froze in place as, for a split second, they shared eye contact.

There was something different in that look. He had a dog growing up, he'd looked into his eyes more than once. He'd ridden horses, and he'd looked at them while feeding them. He even had a black-hooded rat at one point which liked to look at him. But no, the colorful creature's stare did not compare to that of an animal. Instead, the subconscious sense in the back of Indiana's mind gave him the sense of looking into another human's eyes.

The animal went back to crying again.

Instantly, Indiana glanced back and forth between the artefact on the pedestal and the creature lying before it. The creature was clearly helpless. A quick glance around the room showed no evidence of a big mommy colorful rat-horse around to protect its child. What he was looking at was clearly some sort of fascinating, undiscovered species of animal in Panama. If he brought it back with him...

He rubbed his chin as he stalked forward towards the wailing infant. For a moment, he envisioned the Lincoln Park Zoo back home in Chicago. Oh, how much might they pay for something so interesting and unknown as this?

Perhaps he should upgrade his expectations for what exactly he was buying with all the cash he was going to be rolling around in after he got out of here. His hands went to his bag. He could carry the inanimate treasure in his arms. The little squirming brute would probably need to be encaged in his cloth bag for a while.

He dumped out the useless possessions inside. A few papers he had been keeping notes on, an empty bottle of citronella oil, and a shaving kit all clattered to the floor. He only kept the box of matches and the cloth guiding him to the site inside, leaving enough space for him to carefully kneel next to the creature.

Holding out his hand towards the rat-horse, he tested the waters slightly. He waggled his fingers in front of its mouth, ready to pull back at the slightest sign of movement. The creature continued crying, tears streaking down its cheeks, and leaned forward, opening a mouth without teeth. It sniffed his hand, pausing its screaming as it did so. After, assumedly, finding out that Indiana's fingers were not its mother's teat, it went right back to its misery.

Grinning, Indiana crouched down, expression shattering with pain as his back twinged again. Working his left hand underneath the infant's midsection, he lifted it up and into the open top of his bag. Dumping it unceremoniously inside, his sack began to wriggle with its new occupant. His right hand simply closed the top, tying off the strap to the button halfway down.

The muffled screaming continued from inside the bag as Indiana stood back up, approaching the second part of his prize. As he reached for it, his ears twinged as he heard something from behind him. The sound of wood falling over, followed by faint, echoing voices. He caught a few words of Spanish through the distortions of the hallways behind him.

Panicked, Indiana grabbed the treasure from the pedestal. For the first time, he felt the ticking of clockwork and the pulsing of an unnatural warmth inside. The crying continued from his bag as tiny kicks and squirms made the it knock against his torso. Regardless, as the adrenaline rush put temporary pain out of Indiana's mind, he took off towards the exit.

His shoes clicked against the stairs as he heard the voices from the antechamber once again. There really could only be two explanations: this particular treasury had some native guardians, or those gangsters from Panama had figured out where he was going. He'd gotten shot at by them. He'd rather not feel the sensation of being shot at again.

As he clambered up the stairs, back twinging like crazy, Indiana had a bad feeling that this was less than likely.

Shouts were heard from below him as he reached his fourth spiral of stairs. Above him, shafts of natural sunlight shone down. As he reached the climax of the spiral, he found himself at the top of the pyramid. Below him, he saw bushes - fortunately for him not of the thorny kind.

Considering the living and probably delicate contents of his bag, and also considering the somehow still-working clockwork inside the treasure he held, Indiana resisted the urge to jump into the bushes. Instead, planting his heels into the crumbling side of the escarpment, he turned to begin climbing down.

However, as he did so, his back twinged again. With a painful scream, Indiana Jones fell backwards down the escarpment. The clock flew out of his arms as he did so, and his bag floated above him as he went through airtime.

Fortunately, the drop wasn't that far. Only a few feet. Branches crackled around him as he fell into the sharp, wooden mass at the bottom of the cliff. His bag bounced off of his chest, and the slam of the clock hitting the ground next to him made him wince.

Indiana Jones lay panting on the ground, praying silently that his back wasn't broken, then praying that the clock wasn't broken, then praying he hadn't accidentally killed his live cargo. Sniffles followed by continued screaming assured him that his last prayer was answered, and the fact that he could wiggle his toes and slowly sit up from his landing place confirmed the first. He scooped up the clock, still ticking, thanking whatever guardian angel was looking over his bastard soul.

Using his legs, Indiana propelled himself backwards further into the undergrowth, dragging the clock along with him. Shouts in Spanish came from the top of the ridge. Thinking fast, Indiana Jones took his bag and unclasped the top of it. The screams of the child within would attract the attention. If he could throw it far enough away from himself and laid low, perhaps he could make a break back into the jungle while the thugs were distracted.

However, something in his heart broke as he looked at the infant's bruised face poking from the top of his bag and saw the river of tears streaming from its face. For a second, his world melted away around him...

Artillery shells slammed the surface above Private Jones's dugout. Rats crawled around near his feet, but Henry Walton Jones Jr. had been all but desensitized to their presence at this point. His helmet rattled on the table next to him as the small kerosine lantern shook with the quaking of the guns. The noises were too loud for him to talk to his comrades, who were all crowded around.

He had been in that hole in the ground for months, fighting over the same piece of dirt. He had to have seen hundreds die already. How many did a normal 17 year old kid see die in a single day? None? Maybe they'd see someone die once in their lives, hopefully after saying their goodbyes on the edge of a hospital bed before they passed peacefully into their sleep.

Tears streamed down Jones's face. He'd seen five day today. Not even by enemy fire, not by the gas, not by the shells. One choked to death on his own fluids as he died of septic shock on the side of the trench. Three were drowned in the mud. Another's broken body was pulled from a collapsed dugout.

Jones remembered the child that volunteered to go to Europe not 4 months ago. God, had it been that long? How he wanted to fight the hun, avenge the babies from Belgium...

Now, he just wanted to go home. But what was home going to give him? He desperately wished he could look forward to seeing his mother, and for her to hold him and to tell him it was all going to be alright. He'd even tried to write a letter to his dad... but he never got a response.

His fellow soldiers stared into the lamp as another shell shook the earth. Jones raised his hands to his head and began to weep.

His hand froze over the infant's face. The creature continued to cry, its tear-stained squinted eyes staring desperately into his. A single tear rolled down his own cheek.

The sound of something sliding down the cliff face nearby brought Indiana out of his reverie. He looked as a man, stuffed into a grey pinstripe suit and followed by several muscular natives wielding tommyguns and rifles. Clearly listening for the sounds of the cries, it wasn't long before their eyes were attracted to the suspiciously human-shaped lump hiding beneath nearby bushes.

Their guns levelled towards Indiana in an instant.

"Come out!" the suited man spat through a thick Spanish accent. It was Santina's son, the one that had watched while they beat the location of the Clock from Indiana back in Panama, "We can see you there! No point in hiding!"

Letting the live cargo drop to his side in his bag, Indiana slowly stood up, back complaining all the way. His right hand raised above his head. His left hand, still clutching the clock, hung by his side.

"What is making that infernal noise?" the man asked, before shaking his head, "No matter! Mr. Jones, I'm impressed. You've managed to give us a headache! The fun's over now. Hand over the Clockwork Compass of Christophine!"

That was Indiana's first time hearing its full name. Regardless, he wasn't in much of a position to be asking questions. Despite the fact that he knew they were just gonna execute him anyways afterwards, Indiana threw the artefact towards them.

The clock clattered across the jungle floor, rolling towards them. Immediately, every last one of the gangster's eyes, and guns, went towards their prize. Once again, Indiana's personal angel blessed his threadbare soul as he reacted, almost on instinct to the opportunity provided to him.

Willing all of his energy and adrenaline into his back to not give out again, Indiana turned on heel and sprinted into the forest.

"HEY! ¡DETENER!" a voice shouted from behind Indiana. Unwilling to risk ducking with his back, Indiana took a hard left, banking between the trees.

Bullets scattered through the vines and undergrowth around him. Something shot past his right arm, and he felt stinging pain throughout the region as it grazed his forearm. Sucking down the last of his energy reserves, Indiana sprinted as if the finish line was right in front of him, bobbing and weaving as he attempted to disappear himself into the underbrush.

Fortunately, as the gangsters' shots turned out to be less than spectacular, especially as they attempted to run n gun. Bullets impacted the trees and bushes around him, but never found their way to his fleshy center mass. The sound of water rushing came from up ahead, and soon enough Indiana found himself bowling through riverside vegetation as he emerged on a riverbank.

Murky brown water flowed downstream to his left. Indiana had crossed this river, or at least a tributary of it, while following the clues to the Cl- no, Compass. He knew for a fact it was piranha infested, and had to use a fallen log to cross it. There was no swimming, especially not with his bleeding arm and breaking back.

However, as his vision swept to the right, he saw salvation waiting for him, tied to a tree by the river. A yellow bi-wing seaplane. It must've been how the gangsters arrived here. With any luck, it was his ticket back to civilization. Indiana was no pilot, but he'd gotten the vague gist of it back while working in reconnaissance...

With angry, shouted Spanish closing in from behind him, Indiana took off running down the gravel riverside towards the plane. Reaching up to the place where the plane was tied to the shore, Indiana's gnarled, raw hands undid the knot. Shakily, he stepped onto the left pontoon of the plane, beginning to climb aboard as it moved away from the shore, carried away by the current.

Tossing his live cargo into the pilot's side window, Indiana began to mount the short ladder leading up to the door. He hissed as his back gave way once again, causing himself to fall back onto the pontoon. Losing his balance, Indiana's arms flailed as he began to lose balance and leaned away from the plane and towards the swarming waters below him. However, at the last moment, his left hand caught one of the struts between the wings.

On the shoreside behind him, gangsters charged from the trees. Eyes bulging at the sight of them raising their weapons, Indiana lifted himself up with the wing and dove into the plane's cabin. Fortunately, he paused his leg just before he stepped on the squirming bag that had ended up on the floor, hurriedly pulling the door closed behind him.

Bullets hit the fuselage of the plane, punching holes in the cabin around Indiana. Ducking out of sight of the windows, he reached for the engine's ignition, gunning it as the plane's propeller spun to life. By now, the mobster's guns were hitting the back of the plane, shattering windows and creating holes in the fuselage.

Indiana's head hesitantly raised as the gunfire stopped, either because they were getting too far away or because they had to reload. Hurriedly, he looked at the controls in front of him. He recognized the yoke, the instruments, he saw a bunch of levers, there were pedals on the floor below him-

He heard something shuffle behind him and his brow furrowed. Why exactly would the gangsters leave their plane completely unattended...

The feeling of rope cinching around his neck answered his questions almost immediately. Two dark skinned hands held a cable around his neck, and he felt his lungs panic and strain as his airway was closed. Choking, he beat against the person who was no doubt in the seat behind him.

It was no use, his grip was tight, and the man himself was smart enough to duck around Indiana's own seat back to avoid his struggling limbs. Eyes bulging, Indiana scanned the cabin for any last measure weapons as darkness closed around his vision.

The window to his left had been shattered by multiple gunshots. A jagged piece of glass reflected Indiana's face.

Ignoring the pain, Indiana grabbed the jagged glass, ripping it free of the window. Despite the blood streaming down his hands, he jabbed it backwards, stabbing his strangler.

A Spanish swear was screamed as the grip was released, and air filled Indiana's lungs as he pulled himself forward towards the yoke. For some reason, Indiana felt the plane accelerating despite its engine not being throttled up. He had no time to think much further as he spun around in his chair, facing the man behind him.

A cursory glance pegged him as the original pilot of the aircraft, if his helmet and goggles were anything to go off of. The man nursed his hand, impaled by a blood-stained shard of glass, for just long enough for Indiana to wind up a right hook straight to his jaw.

In retaliation, the pilot kicked Indiana's seat. Some mechanism inside caused the seat to slide forward, and Indiana's behind firmly pressed the yoke down. Using the extra space the pilot reached for his belt, drawing a knife from a sheath. Indiana raised his hands, catching the knife-bearing hand just in time before it came down on his face.

The pilot pushed his body weight onto the knife, inching it closer towards Indiana as his weak arms failed against the man who had probably eaten in the past four days. The pilot laughed manically as Indiana's arms began to fail under the pressure.

The box for the plane's flaregun gleamed in the corner of Indiana's eye.

At that very moment, the crying from beneath Indiana's seat picked up again, filling the cabin with incessant screeching, louder than even the rushing water outside. For a moment, the pilot must have questioned what the noise actually was, and Indiana once again knew when to take his moments.

Pushing all of his strength into one desperate shove, Indiana backed the knife's handle all the way into the man's nose, causing him to recoil away. Before the pilot could finish him off with another stab, Indiana's right hand plunged into the flaregun box, ripped the gun from its mounting, and squeezed the trigger directly into the pilot's face.

The pilot screamed and flailed as the flare scalded his face, bouncing up into the ceiling of the cabin as he fell backwards. It fell back down on top of his chest, his clothes igniting. Immolated, the man stood unsteadily in the rocking cabin of the plane. With little choice, he dove for the rear door sitting next to him, flying out over the pontoon into the water. The blood trickling from the glass in his hand sealed his fate moments later as the water boiled with piranhas.

Chuckling in relief, Indiana reached down to the lever controlling the positioning of the seat. Squeaking, the pilot's seat moved back into its original position. Indiana's cloth bag, which was still undone from when he was hiding in the bushes, was empty, and the infant had crawled out. They were covered in bruises and scratches, and its cries had died down... probably because it had become hoarse over the past who-knows-how-long of desperate crying.

Indiana frowned, feeling bad. He reached out a hand to try and pick up the creature and perhaps comfort it, but he paused as he saw out the front windshield with his peripheral vision.

The reason the plane had been accelerating was because they were in a stretch of rapids.

At the end of the rapids, not more than eighty yards away or so, the rapids ended in a waterfall.

"...Shit," Indiana whispered.

At once, his eyes diverted back down to the controls in front of him. Levers... yes, the throttle lever! When he was assisting on that movie set, he'd seen the pilots do that before! Hoping against hope, he threw all three of the levers on the right side of the pilot's seat all the way forward. With a bang of an engine's backfire, the propellor began to speed up. Then, with nothing else to do, Indiana pulled the yoke all the way back as the plane began to speed up towards the edge.

Rocks parting the current passed the plane on both sides. Spray from the water splashed up around the plane, shooting through the shattered windows. Bloodied right hand and gnarled left hand gripping the flight yoke, Indiana held on for dear life as the plane reached the edge. For a moment, he could see the rainforest all around him. In the distance, he even thought he could see the ocean.

His view shot downwards towards the rocks at the base of the falls as the plane nosedived off of it. He felt a grip on his leg as the rat-horse had the good sense to hang on for dear life. He braced his feet against the floor of the cabin, using the pressure to pull back on the yoke despite the loss of gravity from the fall.

Slowly, the plane responded. Its nose climbed as the drop gave it speed. Indiana's rear end slammed back into the seat as the plane levelled out, the worst pain of his life coming from his back and causing him to yell. The plane continued to climb, and Indiana unsteadily evened out the yoke, allowing it to level itself after climbing clear above the treeline.

Panting heavily, eyes squinted nearly shut from the pain in his back, Indiana finally relaxed his grip on the yoke. Literally everything on his body hurt. Fluid dripped from the cut on his arm. His right hand was completely bloodied by the glass shard. His back screamed in pain. His toes were numb and tingly. His head pounded and his throat burned. His vision swam as the adrenaline finally wore off, and Indiana struggled to keep the plane straight as he looked around through the windows for civilization.

The sight of buildings lining a coast nearby was good enough for him. He pulled the yoke left, allowing the plane to lazily turn towards civilization.

Groggily, he looked down at the creature still clinging to his leg. It had stopped crying, perhaps out of exhaustion. Instead, it just sniffled and whimpered pathetically, staring up at him with flooded, quivering eyes. Grumbling, Indiana reached down to the sliver between the seat and the right side door, retrieving his fedora, "Bud, I know you're a baby and all. But cut me some slack, I've just been through some tough shit too."

The infant's ear flicked, and another heart-wrenching whimper escaped its lips. Indiana didn't care. Not because he was particularly unmotivated by the creature's emotional state, but because he was struggling to not pass out as he piloted towards civilization.

The last thing Indiana recalled was pulling back on the throttle, feeling like he was trying to drag 200 pound weights through the mud with a single arm, and descending towards the sea next to civilization...

2: Safe Travels, 1920

A fan slowly spun in the ceiling, stirring the air in the dusty ward. A small window cut out into the wall let in the noonday sun, casting light down onto a table, where a set of clothes (several tears on the fabric stitched closed with fresh thread), socks, shoes, a cloth bag, and a fedora sat. A coiled bullwhip sat in the midst of it all, still attached to a leather belt with its buckle closed.

An elderly woman swept the floor, the scraping of the straw brush at the end of her broom stimulating the ears. She brushed the dirt away from the foot of a metal bedframe, where a young man lay comatose. Stitches closed several parts of his skin. Moist rags covered his forehead and were draped around his neck. Fresh bandages were wrapped around his right forearm and his hand. He wore a simple gown.

The young man stirred, his eyes fluttering open. Weak and barely conscious, he parted his cracked, dry lips and begged for water. The cleaner, looking over towards him, gasped in shock, running out the door to get help.

"Hello. My name is Irina," a woman, face wrinkled and clothed fully in a nun's getup, said as she entered the room, "Sorry. We aren't used to dealing with such a... compound patient out here. The occasional case of malaria or dengue, sure. Not... cuts, scars, starvation, herniated back..."

Indiana shifted his weight against the pillow holding his back up, still lying on the bed, "You still saved my life," he said, breathlessly, "I thought I was a goner, even before I decided to try and fly that plane."

Irina patted Indiana's arm, "I'm sorry. Your plane sank into the sea shortly after the local fishermen saved you."

"It's fine," Indiana waved the same arm dismissively, "Wasn't mine anyway."

Irina's expression changed slightly as she dragged a nearby chair over to Indiana's bedside, resting her weary bones on it, "You certainly had some unexpected cargo. We managed to rescue a very strange animal as well..."

Indiana's head thumped back against the pillows as he furrowed his brow, "...I thought that must have been a fever dream. It was real?"

"If you dreamt of a small, gold colored equine with a black and grey mane..." Irina nodded as another nun walked into the room, carrying a bowl of soup, "Then it was no dream. Are you a zoologist of some kind, Mr...?"

"Jones. Indiana Jones," Indiana watched as the younger nun offered the bowl of soup towards him. He raised his arms, they were stiff but at least had energy to draw from, and clasped the edges of the soup bowl. He nodded his thanks, before turning back to Irina, "And no. I'm just... I'm just a hunter."

It wasn't technically a lie, and Irina seemed unwilling to question either way, "We have taken care of her. She was very hungry. We didn't know what to feed her. We tried some baby formula, and she seemed to take to it."

"She?" Indiana frowns. He supposed he never really checked in all the panic...

"Yes. She. Once she stopped crying, she warmed up quite well I think. She's not like any animal I've ever seen. Even the domesticated monkeys or foals act more erratically. If it weren't for her appearance, she might be mistaken for a human baby," Irina watched as Indiana carefully raised the soup spoon to his mouth.

Savoring the nutrition, Indiana thought for a moment, "...I have to take it- er, her, back to America. She's an undiscovered species that I found in the jungle. I couldn't find her mother or anything. I wouldn't want such an interesting... specimen to go to waste before scientists could get their hands onto her."

Irina sighed, "A shame. I know many of my number would love to keep her here. She has been quite the joy so far."

Indiana scratched the back of his neck, a slight pang of guilt going through him as he reached for another spoonful of soup, "...Hey. You've been more than kind here. The... scientific community. They'll pay me well, and the least I could do is compensate you with a donation. How much did it cost to patch me up?"

Irina folded her hands and shook her head, "The convent and mission hospital will appreciate the donation, no doubt. But, for us, money and material is far from the first object. For that, I shouldn't be... giving you a bill, so to say."

"Well, whatever you say," Indiana quickly danced around the subject. If they wanted to be altruistic and let him keep whatever wealth he could recover from this rotten expedition, they were welcome to it. He raised the soup bowl to his lips, drinking the rest of the warm liquid within. After swallowing, he broke the silence, "How long was I out, by the way? Last thing I remember was crashing the plane."

"You writhed in pain for two days with high fever and incredible pain, be glad you do not remember it. Then, malaria put you into a coma for four days. Thank God it was not more, Mr. Jones. I would fear for your mind in that case," Irina warned.

Irina guided Indiana Jones out into the courtyard of the convent. He was in the city of Christo Solo, on the eastern shore of Panama. The Canal wasn't that much farther. From there, he could get a boat back to Chicago, his live cargo safely in tow.

Speaking of it, Indiana's eyes locked onto a group of nuns tending to a garden in the green patch at the center of the courtyard. One of the sisters held a small, golden and grey bundle that Indiana immediately recognized. The creature was wearing a white, cloth diaper, and was cuddled up into the grip of the nun and sleeping peacefully.

"Christ-" Indiana started, but bit his tongue as Irina gave him a dirty look, "Sorry. I mean: Gosh, you really are treating it like a human baby."

The nun holding the animal turned towards Indiana at the sound of his voice, "Oh. It's good to see you awake and well, Mr..."

"Jones. Indiana Jones," he responded examining the child. Fortunately, no lasting damage seemed to have been done by its various tumbles and knocking around during his romp in the jungle, "Good to see it isn't hurt. We had quite a rough time in the jungle together."

The nun frowned as the child stirred from sleep, "She's nothing like any animal we've seen in this country before, Mr. Jones. She's got shockingly human-like eyes."

Indiana's eyes drifted over to the other sisters as one of them giggled. He heard a whisper from one of them in Spanish. Fortunately, he was no stranger to the language, not after the Mexico, "What's so funny about my name?" he growled at them.

The sister closest to him put her palm on her chest in shock, before shaking her head, "Forgiveness, please sir. It's just- Indiana is the name of one of your states, no?"

Indiana gave an annoyed frown, "I once met a man with the last name of York."

"You're completely right, sir! Forgive us!" the nun said, suppressing another bout of giggles as the group picked up their equipment and began to move on.

Thoroughly annoyed at his name being poked at, Indiana adjusted his hat, "Hey. Listen. I need to get on the first ship back to the States. I'd love to stay here longer, but I don't want to burden you."

The nun holding the creature frowned, looking at Irina pensively. Irina, in return, simply frowned before turning towards Indiana, "Are you entirely sure you still wish to care for this child? We understand it may not be human, and that you found it. However, we are able and willing to take care of her here if you feel hesitancy in your conscience."

Indiana frowned, looking at the infant, before back at Irina and the other woman, "What are you trying to imply here?" he crossed his arms.

"When you brought her here, she was badly hurt and starving to death. We mean nothing against you, but my sisters would want the assurance that you can properly take care of her," Irina intoned, her aged features betraying no particular emotion, though it wasn't hard for the man to catch the implication of her words.

Indiana reached up, scratching his head and causing his fedora to bounce slightly with the motions of his fingers, "Hey. Lady, no offense, but you don't know what I had to go through to get both of us back to civilization alive."

"Of course," Irina nodded again, sighing as she folded her arms, "We meant no offense. And: we will not deprive you of your... property."

Irina gestured towards the nun holding the animal. The infant, which had stirred itself awake at this point, looked curiously around until its eyes met Indiana once again. Nervously, its giant, expressive eyes stared up at Indiana, and it squirmed as the woman held her out to him.

With a nod and an attempt at a sympathetic smile, Indiana Jones took the child. Unsteadily, he attempted to mimic how the nun held her, shifting around his arms multiple times. The child, however, squirmed, holding its hooves out towards the woman. The nun let a tear run down her cheek as she reached out, helping to guide Indiana's hands to properly hold her.

"Here. Let me get you some of the supplies we used to keep her fed and some spare diapers," the woman said, her voice cracking slightly as she briskly walked away, leading Indiana towards a door on the left side of the courtyard.

Indiana opened his mouth to say something. An apology, maybe, or perhaps some sort of comfort to the people who had been kind enough to keep his quarry alive along with himself. However, the words simply could not be found, and he lowered his head as he simply grunted an affirmative and followed her.

Rummaging through a cupboard in a kitchen, the woman provided Indiana with several cans of a formula that required nothing but heated water, a good stir, and a bottle to complete. He was also given a bundle of cloth, meant to be used as diapers, and a bottle with a rubber nipple on the top. She made extra sure that Indiana knew he was to pay special attention to the cleaning of the bottle.

Not wanting to offend his benefactors any more than he already had, Indiana took the supplies graciously. He hadn't the money to repay them and afford the journey home, so he simply kept his mouth shut and made sure to say his pleases and thank yous.

Finally, around mid-afternoon, Indiana Jones walked from the gate of the religious compound, waving the two women at the gate goodbye. The child squirmed in his arms to lift herself over her shoulder and stare at them as he walked away. As soon as she seemingly realized what was going on, the crying instantly began again.

Indiana grimaced, quickening his pace and lowering his gaze once again. He didn't want to see the look on their faces.

After some haggling and bargaining, Indiana Jones negotiated his means of travel. A steamer called the "Safe Travels" would take him to the United States, in return for hard work in the ship's boiler room. He'd be payed a below-usual rate for the passage, but would be given quarters and gruel. The ship would make two stops, in Florida then New York. He hoped that by New York, he would have enough cash to buy a ticket back to Chicago.

The animal had, fortunately, stopped crying and went back to sobbing... and then eventually sleeping by the time Indiana walked to the docks. He realized he had no solid plan on how to take care of the infant while working - as the ship's engine room was no place for a child. With grim determination, he decided he just had to make something work, as he had very little choice if he wanted to bring home any amount of pay.

The baby woke up and began to cry once again as Indiana entered the cabins of the ship. He patted the cans knocking around in his now-heavy bag, "You'll get your bite to eat soon, don't worry."

The smell of oil and coal was thick in the air. Occasionally, Indiana coughed to expel the foul pollutants in the air. The first mate had directed him to a bunkroom on the starboard side of the for'ard middle deck. Fortunately for Indiana, this was far from his first time aboard a steamship - even a pretty grotty one. However, for the child wriggling around in his arms, the new sights, loud sounds of the engines, and the overwhelming stenches seemed to only agitate her.

Indiana felt bad. For the first time, he seriously considered whether or not he should have just cut his losses and left her back at the convent.

The bulkhead leading into the bunkroom he was headed for was open. Several other men sat on the bunks in the room. Some were napping, others were sitting around and smoking, filling the room with acrid smoke to mix in with the burning smell of coal.

Already, Indiana felt out of place - being a fairly wiry guy, recently recovered from malaria and still feeling weak, with a long mop of hair. He sought to go to the only empty bunk in the room, to rest his legs and take stock of his few possessions, yet quickly the squirming, crying bundle in his hands woke every single sleeping eye in the room.

A beefy bald African man in a tanktop, sitting on the bottom bunk at the back of the cabin, removed a cigarette from his mouth, "Well. Mr. Skimpy carrying around a crying rat-horse wasn't how I thought I'd start my day."

Indiana Jones gave a weak chuckle as he entered the room, eyes setting on his bunk. The mattress was thin and stained. He could see the bars of the bedframe sticking through the thin material. Beggars couldn't be choosers, he supposed. He walked over, giving awkward glances to the other men as he walked by.

He took off his hat, setting it on the paper thin mattress as he sat down, the metal frame squeaking a bit under his weight. The resident of the top bunk, a lithe white man with a scraggly moustache and leaned over to watch him sit. In his right hand, he held a book. He looked at Indiana strangely as the latter unpacked his bag, "Vhat is that thing?"

Indiana Jones paused as he held the can in his hand, realizing he didn't have warm water. He looked up at the man, whose accent he recognized intimately, "Uh. It's an animal. I'm trying to get her back to America so that I can get her... studied by the college I go to."

"College boy, huh?" the African man said from his bed, extinguishing his cigarette as he reached into his pocket with his other hand, "That's not an animal. That's some kinda freaky voodoo baby, Skimpy," he kept his eye on them as he lit another smoke.

Delicately, he placed the child on the bed and stood up, bumping his head painfully on the top bunk as he did so. Clutching the back of his head, where the metal frame had bruised him, he hissed, "Is there somewhere I can get warm water? I have to mix something for her to eat."

Shrugging, the African man stood up and gestured for him to follow as he walked towards the door. Indiana gladly followed ducking through the hatch behind him as they walked down the hallway. He took a right, going up a stairwell to the upper deck as he stubbed out his cigarette.

As they ascended another flight of stairs to the weather deck, he spoke up, "Name's Richard. Call me Rich. You from the States?"

"Jones. Indiana Jones. Yeah, I am. New Jersey originally, then Utah, but Chicago now," Indiana said, disappointed with his lack of stamina from his week of languishing as he breathed heavily trying to keep up with the huge man's long strides. Behind them, land was slowly pulling away as another team of sailors worked around the deck.

"Florida," Rich nodded as he threw his cigarette over the side, "Come. Canteen's over here. I needed to grab a drink anyway," he gestured him through a hatch.

Indiana ducked through the hatch behind him. Several mess tables were laid around the room, with a door into the pantry behind it. A counter with a few basic supplies sat around, including a sink and a kettle. Twisting a knob on a stove, he lit it and gestured Indiana towards the kettle, "I'm the cook's assistant. When I'm not helping him with the meals, I'm usually cleaning. Not a lot of good-looking real estate around this tub, but I'll be damned before this place turns into a roach-infested shithole like every other kitchen on these cargo hoppers."

Indiana looked around as he filled the kettle with water. He had to admit, Rich was right. Compared to the rest of the ship, where gunk was caked in the corners and the smell of grease and sweat was omnipresent, the air felt pretty fresh in this compartment, "You seem to do a good job about it. Been here for a while then?" he asked as he squeezed the faucet shut.

Rich stepped back to allow Indiana to place the kettle on the stove, before walking over to the sink himself and filling a mug, "Longer than the actual cook, that's for sure. Been here almost as long as the Captain has."

Leaning on the counter, Indiana hummed, "Why're you just an assistant then? Can't you cook?"

Indiana tensed as he saw Rich's expression change for the moodier. He had no idea what it would be like to be trounced by a man a good head taller than him, and he opened his mouth to apologize. However, before he could, the hulking cook's assistant drank a sip of water and just shook his head, "I can cook. The other guys know not to ask shit like that from me, but you don't, else I'd thump you on that counter right now."

"Sorry, sorry," Indiana held up his hands defensively.

"Cook's a position with actual power. Officers don't want people like me with power," he slugged back the rest of the water, before placing it back under the faucet, "They say it's cause I got a record. That's a long time in the past, I say, I finished high school, got educated, got a proper job here. Never stolen anything from them, never been dishonest. Never been an incident in the kitchen while I've been in charge in lieu of the cook. Still no."

Indiana placed his hands back on his hips, frowning, "Saw the same kinda shit during the war, man. Plenty of good men like you in the army. None of them officers."

Rich took another drink, "You're a vet?"

Indiana nodded slowly, "Volunteered for the Belgian Army in '16. Got the pleasure of fighting over the Somme."

A smile slowly formed on Rich's face as he took another sip, before dumping out the rest of the water and turning around to clean the cup, "Shit. That's hard tacks, man. How'd a twig like you survive the war?"

Indiana chuckled, folding his arms and saying, "I'm... not a stranger to fights. But, the war was more just... endurance. It was a test of just how many diseases and infections you could ward off and survive."

The kettle whistled, and Rich placed the cup back on the shelf before reaching over and cutting off the gas to the stove. Retracting his hand from the cupboard, he held it out towards Indiana, "Skimpy, you're someone I think's worthwhile. Let's not be strangers in the time we're together."

Indiana took the hand, nodding as he shook it. Rich seemed nice enough as well, and he knew better than to anger someone with a hand in preparing his meals, "Sure thing."

Shaking the warm bottle of milk formula, Rich followed closely behind Indiana as they walked back to the bunkroom. Indiana grew more and more concerned as the sounds of crying he was so used to were completely absent.

As he ducked through the hatch, Indiana's eyes locked onto his bunk. Most of the men in the room were crowded around the bunk, with the infant sitting upright on the bed. One of the men, a middle aged latino man, covered his eyes, before opening them again with a shouted, "Peekaboo!"

The animal giggled as soon as the man revealed his face, causing smiles all around as the joyous babbling filled the room. The only thing to rival it was the chuckles and grins from the men as the man covered his face again, causing the baby to assume the most astounded stare at the man's hiding face.

"Peekaboo!" he shouted as he opened his hands again. The giggles filled the room again, causing even Indiana to smile as he walked over.

"Are we hungry?" Indiana asked as he stopped at the ring of sailors, shaking the baby bottle one more time. As the men parted and Indiana went to sit down on the bunk, the baby's eyes locked onto him as he proffered the bottle.

The infant reached out its forelegs towards it as he picked her up and stuck the bottle towards its muzzle. Quickly, instinctively, the infant latched onto the rubber tip and began to suck.

"What's her name?" the man from the topbunk asked.

Indiana shrugged, "Uhh... no name. I found her a week ago, and for most of that week I was being treated for malaria."

The animal's eyes wandered around the room looking at the men as she sucked down the formula. She only squirmed when Indiana adjusted his arms to hold her more comfortably.

"Gotta have a name," the man who was playing peekaboo from earlier said, "What're you gonna name her?"

Indiana paused. It was true. Even animals had names. He couldn't just keep calling it "the animal". The more he deliberated, the more his messmate's eyes bored into him. Eventually, he went with the first thing that crossed his mind. Looking back down at the child, making eye contact with her as she suckled down on his bottle, he said, "Anna. It was my mother's name."

Muttered agreements came from the men as Indiana began to slowly rock back and forth, the springs squeaking underneath him. One by one, the men around him offered their greetings. Most of the crew in his room were firemen, working the ship's boilers who switched off onto working around the topdeck halfway through their "Watch" to get them away from the heat and coal dust. A few were apprentice engineers, and the man sharing Indiana's bunk, named Jean, was surgeon's mate.

And now Indiana was a fireman too. He had two fewer hours than the rest, since the ship already had enough crew to work the ship's engines at full capacity and because any more hours and Indiana might've started 'deserving' more pay than he was getting. He was fine, though. He expected that the rest of his time was probably going to be spent recovering from his recent bout with illness and tending to Anna.

Indiana didn't notice that Rich hadn't followed him into the room until the man himself ducked through the hatch, carrying a set of bedsheets with him, "Hey!" he barked to the room, "May I remind you all that we got six hours to our watch?"

The men scrambled away to their bunks, no doubt dreading the idea of missing out on too much rest. indiana removed the nipple from Anna's mouth, the child having fallen asleep in his arms shortly after the bottle was emptied. Crouching by Indiana's bedside, Rich unlimbered the bedsheets, tucking one side of the sheet into the frame of the bunk above him and tying it off in a knot. He tucked the other side in as well, tying it off securely until a tiny hammock hung from the bunk above Indiana.

"So you don't roll on top of her and suffocate her in your sleep," Rich pushed the hammock with a finger, "Get some shuteye, and don't make any noise."

Indiana nodded, "Thanks," he whispered as he carefully took the sleeping foal and tucked her inside the hollow of the makeshift hammock. Rich stalked off to his own bunk, climbing to the top and letting out a sigh as he laid down. Indiana followed his example soon afterwards on his own bunk, taking his hat and draping it over his eyes as he shut his eyes.

The newly-named Anna slept softly in the hammock above him. He relaxed. Maybe taking care of her over the journey wasn't going to be that hard after all.

Indiana sat outside the doorway to the companionway to the lower decks, eyes bloodshot as he patted Anna on the back as she bawled passionately into his shoulder. As soon as the foal started crying not an hour after Indiana drifted off, he had been promptly ejected from the sleeping quarters to not disturb the rest of his watch. For the next five hours he had made unsteady, zombie-like patrols from the weather deck to the kitchen, trying to satisfy whatever this child's needs were.

He had changed her diaper. Fed her. She seemed to require assistance burping like human children, which he did. He changed her again. Fed her. Realized he was out of diapers and didn't know where a place to clean clothing was. Had to clean the soiled diaper out by hand in the kitchen sink. Dried it using the stove. Nearly burned the diaper...

She had dependably fallen asleep for thirty minute periods, before starting right back up again. The first time she had done so, Indiana snuck back down to the bunkroom, hoping to salvage some of his resting period. However, almost as soon as he was back through the door and shutting his eyes, she started right back up again. After being sworn at by a few of his roommates, he had instead opted to pass out for the periods of rest under a table in the mess hall.

As he switched off the stove, taking the now only slightly damp diaper from the makeshift drying rack he'd rigged above it, Indiana patted Anna on the back one more time. His breath caught as slowly, mercifully, the screaming died down, followed by soft snoring.

Unable to even bring himself to take the diaper off the rack, Indiana dragged his feet towards the nearest mess table. Placing the child on the floor a safe distance away from himself, Indiana drew the blanket he had taken from his bunkroom and drew it over himself, ready to catch another few minutes of shuteye before it inevitably started all over again.

Just as he shut his eyes, he heard a voice from behind him, "Skimpy?"

He twitched, rolling over to see the figure of Rich standing in the hatchway, the first grey signs of light on the horizon behind him. He looked around, seeing the diaper rack and the child sleeping on the floor next to him.

"...The hell you been doing to my kitchen all night?" he growled, stomping forward.

Indiana mumbled, rubbing his sore eyes, "Won't go to sleep. Keeps crying."

Rich shook his head, "Joys of parenthood. Why the hell you using the kitchen to wash diapers?"

"Dunmno wher the laundry room is..." Indiana mumbled, eyelids heavy as the temptation to lay back down and commit to sleep nagged at him.

"Hell, man. I'll tell you at the end of the watch. Get up, the rest of the guys are waiting in the boiler room for you. You're on stoker duty first," Rich kicked Indiana softly as he walked by, "I talked to the Boatswain bout the kid. He says you can take twenty minutes every hour to come up and take care of her before getting right back to work, alright?"

"Mhm, sshhure..." Indiana shakily began to roll out from under the table.

"Take the kid with you," Rich pointed at Anna, "And try not to fall asleep on the job. You can take your four hours of R n' R to try and sleep it off. I'll bag your food for you when you wake up, okay?"

Indiana, despite the extreme fogginess on his mind, acknowledged the good favor, "Thanks a bunch... dunno what I'd do without you..." he reached down to the foal, the stiffness in his back coming back to haunt him as he could only slowly and cautiously bring himself up to standing position with the child.

With that, he walked from the room, only stopping to pick up the diaper Rich threw at him from the stove.

The next several days were cycles of almost pure torture for Indiana Jones. He had thought that barely subsisting, going days without food, being chased into the Panama rainforest was terrible. However, he believed he would rather be trying to carve out a living in the midst of the rainforest, fighting fever and predators, than being in his state.

Work aboard the steamship was hard and long. The "Breaks" he was given to go and take care of the child ended up being less breaks and just more work. He constantly had to quickly feed her, change her, put her to sleep, all in the span of only twenty minutes before hurrying back to his post. Even then, he was only being paid pennies and gruel in the mess hall.

He might've genuinely broken down into a fit of crying, rage, shouting, and the violent destruction of his surroundings if it weren't for the other sailors. Despite their rough exterior, odor, and foul language, they stepped in to support Indiana where he couldn't do it himself. More than once, they kept Anna entertained with their own time while Indiana got the opportunity to pass out.

Rich was particularly helpful. Keeping Anna on a chair in the mess, he made sure she didn't hurt herself while he and Indiana worked their separate stations. Jean, Indiana's bunkmate, even straight up took her off his hands a few times to take care of her. He apparently commonly helped his widowed sister before being conscripted into the French army (they shared a connection over the War, although Indiana rarely got to talk about it between sleeping and working). He believed Anna had "Colic", causing her predictable bouts of abdominal pain. He was told that it was nothing to worry about, as it cleared up with age.

Indiana had pointed out that colic was something human babies had. For all they knew, she was about to shed her skin and explode into some sort of giant spider monster. Jean simply laughed him off and said that, if it happened, writing about it would make him rich enough to leave the sailing business behind.

He still couldn't wait to get rid of her in Chicago, though. He was going to sleep much better in an bed he owned, in a house he owned - which was exactly what he'd buy with all the money he was going to get. Dreaming about counting hundred dollar bills was a common occurrence.

The tenth day of the journey came with it a rare reprieve. Indiana Jones woke up after a restful sleep to the sound of silence, only the snoring of the other men. The young man uncurled from his bed, looking into the hammock strung above his bunk. The child was still there, sleeping, and didn't seem to be dead or anything.

Relieved, Indiana carefully stalked out of the room, heading topside for some fresh air from the weather deck and a drink of water from the mess. As he entered the mess, he saw the dark figure of Rich standing at the back of the mess, shrouded in darkness.

"...Hey," Indiana intoned as he walked over, "Up early?"

"Couldn't sleep," Rich nodded, before looking Indiana up and down, "Anna alright?"

"She's fine," Indiana nodded, "Just wanted some water and a moment to relax before she starts up again."

Rich filled a mug of water for him, passing it over, "Yeah. Hard, isn't it?"

Indiana simply huffed in response, taking a sip of water too soothe his parched, dusty throat.

Rich watched as he slowly emptied his mug, before continuing, "Had my own kid once. A little girl. Name was Katie. With a 'K'."

Indiana narrowed his eyes as he took the final sip of water from the cup, "She's not my kid. I plan on handing her off as soon as I reach Chicago."

A disappointed frown spread across Rich's face, "To the scientists, eh?"

Indiana sighed turning to face the larger man. It was about time he came clean, "I'm... I never really planned to give her to scientists, Rich. I plan to give her to whatever zoo will pay me the most for her."

"Just in it for the money?" Rich deflated slightly, placing his hands on his hips.

"Fortune and glory," Indiana replied, "Fortune... and glory. I'm sure they'll study her and give her the proper care she needs."

Indiana tried to back up as Rich made a sudden advance towards him. His fist clenched as he raised an arm towards him, but he held back from violence just long enough for Rich to extend a finger and simply poke him in the chest, "Skimpy. I don't care what you think. Animal or not, that's a baby right there. You are her entire world, Indiana Jones. You can't tell me you don't see that in her eyes every time you pick her up."

Indiana backed away from his poking finger, crossing his arms, "You don't know me, Rich. I'm no father. I'm just a guy trying to make his mark on the world, going out there and doing stuff rather than just reading about it."

Rich shook his head, calmly placing his right hand on Indiana's shoulder, "Katie was my entire world, Indiana. I made a stupid mistake. Now, she's got a bastard for a father and her mother is stuck raising her alone. I didn't realize how much she was to me until I lost her. I regret that day every single day of my life," he turned away, looking towards the ocean as it spread out in front of the windows of the mess, "Don't you make that same mistake. Do what you want, get her looked at by the scientists. But treat her as nothing less than the innocent little girl she is, okay? Promise me that, right now," Rich turned his eyes in a piercing glare towards Indiana.

Indiana rubbed his chin, averting his gaze away from Rich's blistering stare. Eventually, he nodded, "Listen. I got people at my college. I can get her properly studied. If she really isn't an animal... I promise I'll do what you say."

Rich's body hesitantly relaxed as he turned away from Indiana and back to the sea ahead of them, "We'll make a fueling and cargo stop in Miami before moving further up the coast. I'm waiting to see the shores of home this morning."

Indiana nodded slowly, rubbing the back of his head, "I plan on finding a real meal and maybe a bath with the money they'll give me for my work here."

"I know a few good places," Rich tapped his finger idly against the counter, "Tell you what. You book a hotel with two beds, and I'll buy you supper. We'll be back on the Travels by the next morning."

Indiana smiled and stuck out his hand, "Yeah. You got yourself a deal."

3: Florida, 1920

Anna lay upright against Indiana's shoulder, head panning actively back and forth around the pier as Indiana and Rich walked towards the city beyond. It felt good to finally be back in the States, even though he wasn't quite home yet. The Stars and Stripes flying over the harbor was a welcoming site after the danger he faced in Panama.

They'd worked until around mid-afternoon for their watch, helping to unload cargo to the port. When they'd been left off, they'd been given enough money to pool together to a good meal for two and a decent hotel room... one with a bathtub, Indiana hoped.

Patting Anna on the back, Indiana turned towards Rich, "I'd usually ask if you knew a good bar. But..."

"Right," Rich grunted, "I heard the news in Brazil. They banned alcohol?"

"Yep. Made a new amendment to the Constitution and everything," Indiana huffed, adjusting his hat. Just that year, the US government had declared an outright ban on the consumption of all types of alcohol, "It's insanity. Can't imagine most of the population taking the punch."

Rich lead the way, walking towards one of the streets, filled with pedestrians and the occasional automobile, "Fortunately we can just get liquor from South America. Come, I know a good restaurant. I'm starving."

"Same," Indiana followed along.

Anna brought tons of stares as they walked through the city. The slightly dirty golden pelt and pigmented mane of the small pseudo-equine certainly stood out. A street dog barked at them on the way past, and Indiana kept wary as they passed it by. Several waiting at a trolleybus stop whispered to each other as they walked past. Indiana simply pretended as if nothing was wrong and kept walking.

It seemed to work. The less he seemed nervous himself, the less the passers by seemed to regard him as odd.

A few blocks from the pier, Rich lead Indiana across a street to a restaurant facade. The "Whistling Pig" it was named, according to the sign that hung over the windowed front of the restaurant. The two took a moment to dust themselves off best they could, trying to make their peasant clothes the best they could before entering a formal restaurant.

Rich wore his usual tank top, but this time had a denim jacket to go over it and cover up his arms. It was complimented by a pair of baggy trousers, held up by a leather belt. Indiana wore his usual beige shirt, trousers, leather jacket, and fedora. It was literally the only thing he brought on the journey with him, and it was looking much worse for wear, even after the nunnery's patch job on it.

Fortunately, the restaurant wasn't too high class, and a waiter lead them to a table to be seated. It was a cosy establishment, about twenty tables large. The front windows were clean, and looked out onto the road where the residents of the city hustled and bustled about. A glass chandelier hung in the main room of the eatery, casting electrical light through the room. Soft music played from a player set on the counter.

Indiana sighed as he sat down, relaxing on the padding of the chair as he kicked his shoes off, "Surprised they let us in. We're dusty enough to be coal miners."

Rich chuckled as he picked up a nearby napkin, dusting off his hands with it, "They know we're sailors. They know sailors have pay to squander as soon as they're ashore."

The waiter returned soon after, giving them the menus. To his credit, he didn't cringe too much at the stifling odor drifting off the two men, nor did he stare for too long at Indiana's animalistic charge.

Anna craned her neck as she sat on his lap, signalling to Indiana that she was hungry. Digging around in his bag, he took out a still-warm baby bottle that he had prepared before leaving the ship. He was almost out of formula. He hoped he'd have enough change to buy a few more cans to tide them over till they reached New York. Taking his mind off his financial troubles, he flipped open the menu.

"Get something expensive. If I ain't getting alcohol here, may as well," Rich muttered as he scanned his own menu, "That rump steak looks pretty nice."

"Same. Something solid after porridge for ten days straight. Maybe a cola as well. Some fries?" Indiana proposed as Anna latched onto the baby bottle.

"We can split the fries," Rich suggested, "Cola's a good second to whiskey, I suppose. Get the salt off my lips."

Indiana grunted as he adjusted Anna on his lap. After a while, the waiter came back and took their orders. Almost automatically, Rich took out the appropriate denomination of cash from his wallet and placed it under the salt shaker on the table. Without further assurance, the waiter took their order off towards the kitchen.

"Welcoming," Indiana grunted.

Rich sighed as he leaned back in his seat once again, "It's what people like us get in these kinds of places."

Indiana nodded, patting Anna on the back, "Every day, I count myself lucky that I didn't lose a limb in the Somme. I've seen what happened to other veterans."

Rich crossed his arms, tapping his thumb against his left bicep, "What motivated a war vet college kid like you to come all the way out to Panama to go hunting for animals?"

"Wasn't looking for an animal," Indiana admitted, "I was looking for some golden clock in an ancient ruin. Got word of it from a guy who's teaching me Archaeology - Abner Ravenwood. Didn't want me to come. Really probably shouldn't have, but it would've been worth a damned lot. Solid gold, around the size of..." Indiana vaguely made motions with his free hand resembling the dimensions of a desktop pendulum clock, "Worth enough to get me my own house. Sleep in my own bed, not need to worry about the landlady bitching at me.

Rich nodded, "Sounds like the dream. What happens when you run out of money?"

Indiana shrugged, retracting the half-emptied bottle from Anna's lips as she stopped sucking, "It'll happen pretty quickly, if I'm honest. College isn't cheap. By then, I'll just chase another treasure. I'm good at it. Did you know I actually survived a squad of gangsters, guns and all? Flew a plane out of the jungle."

Rich chuckled, waggling his finger at Anna, "But no clock. Just Anna. Why?"

"Gangsters got the clock. I threw it at them and ran away while they were distracted," Indiana sighed, "I was hoping Anna would be worth just as much. Still might be. Depends how much the scientists are willing to pay to study her, and if she's an animal or not."

A familiar, disappointed frown spread across Rich's face, and Indiana groaned in response. The man spoke anyway, "Stop trying to deny it, man. You know she ain't. Look at her right now."

Indiana looked down. Anna had snuggled against her torso, and was looking between the two men as they spoke with wide, curious eyes.

"Ain't no puppy dog or cat that looks around and makes eye contact like that," Rich waggled a finger at Anna.

Indiana breathed an exasperated sigh as he hoisted his charge up against his shoulder to help her burp, "Well how would you explain it? There's been a civilization of secretive diminutive, golden horses living in Panama and nobody's found out? I found her without any parents, in a ruin made by some ancient human tribe," as the words left his mouth, Indiana's mind wandered back to the glowing stones and overly smooth rock. That did seed some doubt in his mind as to the origins of the ruins, but he continued on anyway, "We'd have heard of them before. It might have the needs of a human child, but I doubt that's really the case."

The waiter's dress shoes clicking on the floorboards broke up Indiana's rant for a moment as their order was delivered. After wishing them a good meal, the waiter stalked back off to his other duties. Indiana grabbed a fry from his plate before moving it into the center of the table for both of them to reach it, "Besides. I'm only twenty years old, Rich. I'll be twenty-one in July. I got debts. I got college. Even if it's some kind of space-horse from Mars looking for a human daddy to tend to all of its needs, I'm not it. I'd make a terrible father."

"I made a terrible father. Couldn't do worse than me, buddy," Rich shot back, slicing up his steak into neat portions before eating.

Indiana made a single cut rather than dicing the entire steak, and stuffed an oversize piece into his mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he responded, "You know what I mean. I'll talk to the scientists, but like-" Indiana grunted as Rich stared at him, "This is just stupid. Even a zookeeper will probably do a better job than me."

Anna burped.

Rich forked his steak and ate, swallowing the smallest slice after savoring properly, "Whatever. It's your life, man. Just consider the losses you'd be making before you make any decisions. Let's just eat."

Indiana conceded, slicing up his steak into larger chunks and eating them as he went. Rich ate much, much slower, taking a few fries between each bite of his steak and washing it all down with cola from the glass bottles given to them. The wear and tear of several long days on the sea slowly drained from their bones as they ate heartily, and Indiana's dread of needing to get back aboard the ship for another five days creeped up on him as Anna fell asleep in his lap.

He scooped up his side of mashed potatoes, shovelling it into his mouth. Rich was only half done with his steak as he leaned back in his seat once again, savoring the last vestiges of his meal. As he swallowed, he subconsciously moved a hand to stroke Anna's back, "What's the plan now?"

"Got some shopping to do, right?" Rich asked as he impaled another piece of meat with his fork.

"Yeah. Went through five cans in ten days. I think the train ride from New York to Chicago will take a good two days. So, should pick up around four cans of formula just to be safe," Indiana calculated quickly, his tongue probing his teeth for pieces of gristle stuck between them, "How about you?"

"Got money from the second watch. I do their shopping for them for a small fee," he tapped the side of his head and waggled his eyebrows, "Helps not to have a babe in every port. While they're busy wasting their time and fooling around with the ladies, I'm making a bonus on the side and keeping busy."

Indiana laughed, rubbing his chin, "Smart. What do they usually get you to buy?"

"Tobacco, cigarettes, newspapers, usually alcohol but not this time, sweets, occasionally a new set of shoes or something; odds and ends," Rich took the last bite of his steak before craning his neck slightly to look at Anna. As he swallowed, he pointed with his fork to her sides, "You got any idea why she got wings? She meant to be able to fly?"

Indiana had indeed noticed the tiny, weak wings at the sides of the infant. He brushed them delicately with a finger, trying not to disturb her sleep, "Dunno. I think they're vestigial. Even baby birds have a higher wing surface-to-body ratio. Unless they grow out a lot, they're probably some artefact of evolution," it did also remind Indiana of the myth of Pegasus, but he didn't feel like mentioning it before Rich spoke up.

"You believe in that kinda stuff?" Rich grunted.

Indiana sighed, "Kinda. Not really made up my mind about evolutionary theory. It's what they're starting to teach at the universities though. Familiarity with it makes you look smart in front of the professors at the very least."

"You really don't seem like that much of a scholar," Rich laughed as he scooped up some of his own mash, "You're wiry, but you're fit. You been through the war. You just took a two month vacation to visit to chug all the way down to Panama and nearly die of jungle fever. How you finding time to pour through books?"

"Books are great and all, don't get me wrong," Indiana held up a palm, before reaching for his bottle of cola and taking a swig, "But, I prefer to get things done myself. I like going out and seeing the ancient ruins and touching the artefacts, not just sit around in a laboratory for months on end. I prefer to write my own paychecks while doing so as well."

"You study... archaeology? Anthropology?" Rich questioned, washing down a bite of mash with cola.

"Yeah I technically study anthropology, but the entire degree is for Archaeology specifically. I actually study musical theory for my minor," Indiana turned his gaze away as he scratched his cheek nervously, "Uh. I like the saxophone. I play jazz. Not really that well, but y'know. It's earned me the odd quarter here and there."

"I met my wife over jazz," Rich smiled, expression drifting off a ways. Eventually, he reached up and scratched his nose, "Sounds like a busy life. You got any family?"

"Mom died eight years ago. Dad hasn't talked to me in five. After my letters during the War went unanswered, I decided I don't want to talk to him either," Indiana sighed, seeking to change the conversation as fast as possible, "You plan on scrubbing that canteen for the rest of your life, Rich?"

"It's honest work," Rich shrugged, "And I'm a bit too old to start thinking about changing my career. Maybe one day, I can find a way to buy my own ship. Before prison I worked with a salvage company - they did work to refloat recent shipwrecks for scrap. Maybe I could do that again, or maybe just keep hauling cargo around the Americas."

"A seaman through and through," Indiana finished the last of his cola and signalled towards the waiter. As the waiter walked over, Indiana continued, "After I get off in New York, any way I can get in contact with you? Can't exactly mail letters to a ship."

The waiter was asked for the bill, and as he walked off again Rich answered, "When I'm not on the sea, I usually post up with my auntie in Kendal," he took a napkin from the holder nearby and a pen from his jacket pocket. Scratching onto it, he passed the napkin over to Indiana, "Send mail there. Or come visit during hurricane season. Most shipping routes here freeze when cyclones come through."

Indiana gave a thankful nod as the waiter came back with the bill. Rich, keeping to his word, paid the bill with a standard tip, and they both got up from the table and walked to the exit, Indiana taking a bit to hoist Anna back into his arms as he did so. Once they reached the street, Indiana followed Rich into the district with many of the city's stores.

They had to split up to do their own shopping, agreeing to meet back at the hotel they planned to stay for the night in by sunset. Indiana once again got plenty of stares from those around him as he entered and browsed through the various stores in the central city. Once again, he ignored them, buying four cans of formula. The price was lower than what he had believed, and with a bit of haggling, he managed to crunch the price down enough to spare the change for a spare straight razor. His beard was beginning to get scraggly after he ditched his shaving kit in Panama.

For the rest of the hour he had to kill, Indiana toured the beaches. He managed to get a woman running a coffee stand's sympathy to get some warm water for a new bottle of formula when Anna started crying again. As the sun set, he walked down the boulevard towards the street the hotel was on. The ocean sparkled in the distance, the wind blew in from the sea, and the orange glow of the sun washed over the entire city.

Anna babbled something in Indiana's arms as she looked out towards the sunset with gleaming eyes. Indiana looked down, sighing as he said, "You'll like Chicago. There's this nice guy there named Marcus Brody. He'll know what do with you... or he'll know who to ask."

Anna stared up at Indiana as he spoke. Swallowing, Indiana broke eye contact as he made his way across the road back into the city. As he did so, Anna pressed her head into his chest, and he felt her head and fur through his shirt. He could subtly feel her heartbeat against his chest, and his grip shifted ever so slightly with every breath she took.

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he grimaced. Reaching up with a free hand, he patted her in the back as he made his way down the street.

Rich and Indiana opened the door to their new hotel room. It was no grand hotel, but there were two beds, a bathroom with a bathtub, a dresser, and a writing desk. The air was clean, only slightly musty, and the place was clear of rodents. The hotel staff had placed a crib in the room for them to use until they checked out the next morning.

Rich turned in for his turn in the bathtub while Indiana changed and tried to put Anna to sleep again. Once she was asleep in her crib, Indiana took second shift in the bath. The wash was nothing special, the water was lukewarm and the soap was sparse. Without anything fresh to change into afterwards, it wasn't going to help the smell that much, but it did at least get the coal dust off and relax the muscles.

As he got out of the bathroom, he noticed his friend already asleep under the sheets of the far bed. Smart, he was taking his shuteye while he could before Anna's colic would wake him and Indiana back up.

One more time, he checked the tiny form in the crib. Anna snoozed softly, drooling onto the soft padding of the crib. He lay down in his bed, drawing the sheet over him. The room was plenty warm enough with tropical weather and all. He placed his hat on his bedside table, turned out the lamp and rolled over onto his side to get some sleep.

Just as he shut his eyes, the sound of shell falling nearby jolted him awake.

Body tensed, his heart raced as the bed squeaked beneath him as he bolted upright. The dirt walls of the dugout weren't around him. The wallpaper was still there, the window outside still looked out towards the dark ocean, and the bed under him was still a plush hotel furnishing. Placing a hand over his heart to calm its beating, he looked around for the source of the noise.

Another bang caused him to jolt again, but this time he followed the sound to the ceiling above him. The more he listened, the more he heard the sounds of raucous laughter and the squeak of a bedframe. Another thud happened, but now that he'd rationalized it, he simply sighed and lowered himself back underneath the covers.

He couldn't sleep until they were done. And even then, his brain was still rife with thoughts of the war. His nightmares were intense.

"Didn't sleep well?" Rich asked as they walked back to the docks. A heavy rucksack was slung over his back, filled with his shopping. Indiana's bag clacked with cans of formula once again.

Indiana rubbed his eyes, "Yeah. The damn baby," It was only a partial lie. He'd already been awake when Anna woke up and started crying.

"Don't feel too bad about yourself," Rich comforted as they mounted the gangplank leading back to the side of the Safe Travels, "You're giving a child exactly what they need. Can't do it for herself, can she? You could be angry, thrashing her around and muffling her. But you aren't. That's a caring father."

Indiana glared at him. He couldn't really tell if Rich was trying to tease him at this point by trying to convince him he was being a parent, but he didn't appreciate it in the moment either way, "Still can't wait to see New York. At least on the train ride, I won't have to work my ass off just to stay onboard."

Rich laughed as they came over the side of the ship, "Look on the bright side, Indy. At least now you can say you have experience running steam engines. You're advancing your career skills!"

The rest of the trip was more of the same. However, Indiana started to fit into the routine more often. Anna's colic, which Jean was sure it was at this point, was common at night. With that, he knew how to prioritize his sleep schedule a bit better, and didn't need to zombie through so many of his tasks.

On the fifth day of their voyage, Indiana emerged from the boiler room in time for Rich to meet him on the forecastle, where he pointed out towards New York Harbor. The bustling harbor, Manhattan Island, distant smog, and the towering skyline all stretched out to meet the vessel as it moved in between vessels great and small.

"New York at last," Indiana sighed as he leaned on the front rail. He looked towards the Statue of Liberty, towering over the harbor, "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

"Big promises, eh?" Rich took a drag from a cigarette, "You think America lives up?"

Indiana shook his head, "Depends how rich you are. Always does."

Rich sighed as he threw the spent cigarette into the ocean, "Not even rich black men can get as far as the whites in this country, Indiana."

Indiana conceded with a tilt of his head. Adjusting his fedora he leaned against the rail, "Too true. But, not much we can do about our parents, something we can do about the money though."

"Mhm," Rich conceded back as he took his second smoke out, and went to light it, "Suppose you head out on the first train?"

"Really gotta get back to college before the school year begins," Indiana sighed, "...Which is the beginning of next week, three days from now. Hopefully there aren't any delays with the trains. I don't know if there's a direct service, might be sleeping rough between the two train lines."

The two men stood in silence for a while. Many of their other watchmates emerged from their work stations to watch the harbor draw closer. Indiana had been told the ship would be making its final stop here before turning around to run back down the coast back down to Brazil, through the Panama Canal, then up the West Coast. That meant it was more than just him excited to be getting to New York.

Rich inhaled smoke from his cigarette, before turning his eyes on Indiana one last time, "Indiana. If I ever see you again, I'd better see Anna grown up all strong and with a good education, or a damn good excuse why you're alone, or else I'm throttling you and breaking at least two of your limbs. Got it?"

Indiana looked up at Rich. The scariness of the hulking man's musculature and his height advantage had faded since they became friends, but he was still fearful of just how much damage a guy like him could do. With a sigh, he brought his palm to his face, spat in it, and stuck it out towards Rich, "Promise on my mom's grave, I'll have her best interests in mind."

Rich spat in his own palm, taking the handshake, "Been good sailing with you, Indiana Jones."

The Pullman Company train began to slow down as it reached the final approach of its journey. The Great Lakes spread out before the great American metropolis. Buildings surrounded the rail lines as it slowed to safe speeds, approaching the central station around the mid-afternoon.

Indiana Jones sighed, pulling Anna closer as he did one final check throughout his baggage. He'd left for Panama with a bag of food, bottled water, a shaving kit, matches, maps, a pocket knife... now all he was left with was a single can of baby formula, a box of matches, an ancient cloth with directions to a now-ransacked ruin, and a living dead weight. Fortunately, his apartment was paid up until next week - the last thing he'd wanted was to be evicted and the landlady to pawn all of his belongings off. But, returning empty handed with basically nothing to his name after dreaming about an ancient gilded treasure for a good two months now (not to mention having it in his hands at one point), made him mournful.

He had experience with bars and restaurants. Surely he could grab work mopping floors and waiting tables somewhere.

The train rounded a bend. Out of the window, Indiana spotted the street he knew lead to the Lincoln Park Zoo. It would even be on the way to his home, and it'd be open if he hurried. It'd probably take a few days to get a good deal going, and if he started now he could get a fat wad of cash before his rent was up. Then, it was to the university office to put down his tuition upfront, to a real estate brokerage to look at houses, then to a car dealer-

Anna shifted in his arms. Her mouth sucked on an invisible object. Despite the cold air through the coach, she warmed him.

Remembering his promise to Rich, Indiana sighed. All that work, and it was probably going to go to waste. Knowing his luck, the scientists were just going to find out that Anna was just a mutant capybara or something and not a fascinating new species and his sale price was going to go down the hole. If he waited for them to study her, Indiana would be taking a trip to the bank to ask for a tuition loan, then knocking on the doors of restaurants asking for work, then working hard hours to probably not even make rent on time, then begging his landlady to give him a second chance...

Indiana rubbed his eyes. The sounds of the train's brakes engaging and the structure of the train station surrounded the train caused him to shift over to the side of his booth. Slinging his bag's threadbare strap over his shoulder, Indiana stood along with most of the other passengers in the cab. Stepping out of the train, he bagged his train tickets as he walked to the exit, sour frown on his face. He'd love to spare the change for the tram back home, but he'd spent his last dollar on meals aboard the train. They weren't even good meals, they were just chicken sandwiches with a side of water.

Without the tram, it was two whole hours back to his apartment, as long as he avoided the gang-controlled areas of town. While he'd usually be up for that, he wasn't up for it while carrying around squirming, crying live weight... and he'd had quite enough of being chased around by gangsters for the year.

His shoes, already ragged from his time in Panama, were beginning to straight up fall apart as he walked through the city streets. He could see his socks through various holes where the hide had come loose. The patchwork done on his jacket and pants was alright, but he knew better than to think patches lasted forever: he'd probably have to buy a new set of clothes as well. At least his hat was alright. He'd be emotionally stunted if anything ever happened to his treasured fedora.

About halfway through his journey, they passed the Zoo. The lasts few guests were strolling out its front gates as the sun set in the distance. The temptation to skip straight through those gates and ask for someone in charge to look at his rare specimen was so great, and Indiana's will to keep his promise to the guy he was likely never going to see again if he didn't want to was so weak. Indiana took one step towards the zoo's gates.

The last few guests brushed by Indiana as a security guard emerged from the central building of the zoo. He spun a keychain around his finger as he approached.

Indiana wasn't fit to be a father. Even for the short period they'd be together while he waited for Marcus Brody to get a stuffy old zoologist to look at her, he'd need to take care of her. The formula was expensive. The laundry was going to be expensive. He'd need to buy a crib, a walker, maybe a bunch of other baby supplies too. He took another step forward.

The guard reached the gates and noticed Indiana standing just outside. He looked at the animal sleeping in his arms and frowned, "...Can I help you, sir?"

Indiana hung his head. He could still ask the guard to let him in, and explain his situation. He'd probably be able to convince him, and the zoo's staff would surely still be in to take a look. He raised a hand, thinking of what to say to the guard, but the words died in his throat. Moving his hand back to Anna's side, he held her out in front of himself.

Doing so made her stir awake, and she peered at him sleepily as she wiggled her hooves. Her vestigial wings fluttered at her side, and her mouth curled open into a yawn. Against his thumb, Indiana could feel the faintest heartbeat. Against the palm of his hand, he could feel her chest rise and fall. In her eyes, he could see himself reflected in the moisture gathered in them.

"That some kind capybara?" the guard grunted, his hand still on the gate as he stared at Indiana with a raised eyebrow. Eyes travelling down to his ragged shoes, he asked, "Lemme guess. You painted a small pony or something and you wanna sell it to us? Get out of here, old soaker."

The gate slid shut and the chains rattled as the guard locked up for the night. Turning away, he grumbled something about "The younguns these days are the reason why they're banning liquor."

Indiana frowned. He lacked the energy to call out to him, and he was too mixed up to even be angry at himself for his indecisiveness. He retracted his arms, placing Anna to his shoulder as he turned and walked away from the zoo. In return, she babbled something into his ear, wiggling her forehooves.

Patting her on the back, he sighed, "Guess I'm keeping my promise, Rich."

Indiana had lost his original set of keys in Panama. Fortunately, he knew to keep a spare lying around in a hidden place. In the poorly-watered, dying plant next to his doorway - apartment 8 - he dug around in the soil and retrieved a single key. Dusting it off, he inserted it into the keyhole, turning it with a satisfying click. The door opened to his apartment, and he switched on the lights as he sighed.

"Welcome home, kid," Indiana sighed as he pushed the door shut behind him with his foot.

Anna stared around the room silently. A kitchenette was crammed into a corner. A bookshelf dominated a third of the wall space. A pantry took up the rest of the wall. A single bed was pressed against a corner, surrounded by boxes filled with random stuff that were yet to be unpacked even a year later after he moved in. A door lead into a tiny bathroom, where a shower, toilet, and sink were in a practically six by six foot space.

Anna turned back towards Indiana's face, looking at him blankly. Indiana sighed, "Yeah. Not much of a family house, is it? Try not to make too many animal noises, there isn't meant to be pets in here."

Anna responded by squirming slightly and letting out an, "Agoo."

"Yeah. Just like that. The landlady wondering how the hell I got a baby is better than her wondering how I got an alien space-horse from Mars," he chuckled to himself, walking over to his bed and laying Anna on it. Unpacking his final can of formula, he opened it and set his kettle to boil. He opened the window, letting the cool air in.

Sighing, he sat down on the bed next to Anna, "Tomorrow, gotta go to the university and ask Marcus about you. Maybe he can take care of you for the day while I go to the bank to try and get the money for the school year."

Anna stared up at him, before looking away around the room and then back up at him, "Bah!" she babbled.

Dread gripped Indiana's heart as he propped up his head with his hand, "...Lot of vocal range for an animal, huh?"

"Bah, bah!" Anna replied.

1920 was going to be a long year.

Author's Note

Note: I am aware that in canon, Marcus Brody should not be in a working relationship with Indy yet. I have decided to simply ignore this in favor of better storytelling.

4: Chicago, 1920

The University of Chicago was a fairly old building, recently renovated with more modern constructions, paved roads, gardens, fences to separate it from the public city streets, and electrical infrastructure. Despite all these improvements, the old, stone architecture still reared its head majestically over its grounds.

After coming back from the War, Indiana had spent exactly one year studying there, paying off his loans with a job at a movie set. Now he was back, another cheque from the bank in hand, an alien baby in the other, and an otherwise empty wallet, sitting in the payments office attracting stares from other students waiting with him. He was off like a rocket once his number was called, entering an enclosed office attended to by a clerk.

"Hi, I'm Henry Walton Jones. I have a cheque to pay my tuitions for the year-" Indiana began, only to be cut off as the woman on the other side of the desk shrieked.

"WHAT IS THAT!?" she pointed at Anna as she scrambled backwards, her chair scraping against the floor as she did so.

"Gu-Gah!" Anna responded, suckling on her own hoof as she stared at her.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he waved the bank note in her face, "Henry Walton Jones. Major in Archaeology. Tuition for the year? Pretty please?"

The accountant's mouth shut, open, then shut again.

Indiana rolled his eyes, walking closer and holding out Anna towards her, "See? Her name's Anna. She's a baby, I'm taking care of her. She's kinda weird, but nothing to be afraid of. Now, write the payment down in your ledger, please?"

"Buhgahgahbah!" Anna babbled as she waggled her hooves towards the woman.

Reaching up and adjusting her glasses, the accountant blinked a few times. Her face went from shock to a disgusted frown as she grabbed the cheque from Indiana and picked up her pen. Eying the animal in his grip, she flipped through her accounting ledger until she found the right page. After several more glances at Indy and Anna, she shook her head as she scribbled onto the pages and closed the book, placing the pen back on the desk shortly after.

"Thank you," Indiana turned on heel towards the door, replacing Anna close to his chest as he walked back out the door.

Walking back out into the main hallway, Indiana adjusted his hat as he walked with purpose towards the faculty areas of the university. Scaling two flights of stairs and heading down a long, obscure hallway, he eventually passed a sign over an arch reading "UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO OFFICE OF ANTIQUITIES."

"Walk like you know what you're doing," Indiana whispered to himself as heads turned and followed him through the hall. Putting on a smile, he waved to the secretary at the front desk of the department as walked up, "Hi. Is Doctor Brody in? It's Indiana Jones."

The secretary's eyes instantly went to Anna, who was busy sucking on Indiana's right hand.

Following her eyes, Indiana faked a casual chuckle, "Oh? Her? Just something I brought back from a trip to Panama. Is he in?"

Blinking, the secretary finally diverted her stare and muttered something to herself. Taking a sip of her tea to stall for time, she eventually smoothed back her hair as she nodded nervously, "Y-Yes. I believe he came in not a few minutes ago..."

"Thanks!" Indiana bowed slightly as he hurried off down the hallway leading to Brody's office. Shifting Anna around in his arms, he kept his right hand free as he approached a door halfway down the hall.

MARCUS BRODY - CHIEF OF ACQUISITIONS

His knuckles rapped on the door as he steadied Anna on his shoulder, "Marcus! It's Jones! I'm back from Panama!"

There was a slight pause as he stepped back from the door. Soon enough, though, the knob turned and the door opened, revealing a middle aged man wearing a grey suit, red bowtie, white undershirt, and thin, right-swept black hair. Upon seeing Indiana, the man's face lit up, "Oh, good gracious, Indy! I thought you'd gone and died down there! I don't know what I'd have told to your father!"

"Nearly did die, Mr. Brody," Indiana said respectfully, "Got malaria. Spent a week in a mission hospital in a coma-"

Marcus's eyes went to Anna, resting between Indiana's arms, and he waggled a finger towards her before Indiana finished his sentence, "W-What is that... strange creature?"

Indiana chuckled nervously, adjusting his hat, "That's uh. She's why I wanted to see you basically straight after I got back.. uh, can I come in?"

Anna gave a side-on glance towards Marcus, squirming around in Indy's grip to get a better look at him. Eventually, she panned her vision back towards Indiana, who simply gave her a nervous grimace as Marcus made way for him to step inside his office.

Brody's office was nothing too special. A bookshelf lined an entire wall, with a few paintings and photographs on the opposite wall. Indiana spotted a picture of his father, Jones Sr., and himself as a young kid hanging on Marcus's wall. There was a desk, littered with papers, a typewriter, an inkwell, and a still-steaming cup of tea. Behind the desk was a window looking out into the college's track and field.

Marcus pushed the door closed behind him with a click, staring at Anna as he turned around, "Is that something you found in Panama?"

Indiana nodded as he leaned back onto Marcus's desk, "Yeah. When I got to Panama, I did more than just research. I found honest-to-God directions to the resting place of the Clock itself."

"The Compass. Clockwork Compass, Indy. It's not a clock," Marcus frowned as he gestured for Indiana to sit down, walking over to his own side of the desk.

Pushing the chair back with his foot, Indiana slid into the seat as Marcus sat down. He continued, "Yeah, whatever. Compass. There were these gangsters, Marcus. They were headed for it... and I had to go get it first. Made outta solid gold, had to be worth thousands."

"Not to mention the archaeological significance if a civilization that ancient had something that mechanically advanced," Marcus reminded, taking a sip of his tea.

"Yeah, sure," Indiana shrugged off, "Tramped around a week into the jungle. Finally found the place. Got in there, herniated my back, and when I got to the antechamber that the cl- er, Compass was in..." he hoisted Anna up slightly, "She was there. Just lying on the floor, crying like there was no tomorrow. And you should hear her cry, Marcus. Exactly like a human baby. It's wild. I couldn't see a mother, no nests, no anything, so I took her... along with the compass. I got intercepted by the gangsters from before, and I had to ditch the compass to get away, but I stole their transport on the way out and escaped the jungle alive. This is all I really have to show for it."

Marcus brow had fully furrowed, and he tapped his fingers on the edge of the desk as Indiana talked. Eventually, he removed his hands from his desk, interlacing them together as he leaned back in his chair, "Most interesting. I'm no zoologist, but I can say for certain it's an undiscovered species. Unguligrade, large brain-to-body ratio, vestigial wings, expressive eyes..."

Anna babbled, placing her forehoof in her mouth as she stared up at Marcus, ears flicking to and fro as the adults talked.

"Everyone I was around when I was coming back to the States kept saying it had to be intelligent. Like... human intelligent," Indiana brushed Anna's hair back, "Is there anybody you know that could, y'know, study her?"

Marcus hummed as he brought both his hands up to his lips. After a while, he spoke, reaching for his fountain pen, "I know a man. Dr. Richter. Studied at Oxford, Zoology. A close friend of my brother's, actually. We share correspondence once in a while, he's working in Philadelphia right now. For something like this, he'd be willing to make the trip," Marcus paused, watching as Indiana adjusted Anna's seating on his lap and continued to passively stroke her mane, "...You seem to have grown quite attached."

Indiana broke out of his reverie, looking up at Marcus. Almost immediately, he put his hand back to his side, letting out a slight cough as he did so, "Erm. She's cute. I just want everything to be taken care of responsibly and make sure she goes to the right people."

"You think it- she might have the needs of a human child?" Marcus quirked an eyebrow.

Indiana sighed, rubbing his chin as he stared down at Anna, "So far, that's exactly what she's had. Eating, sleeping, pooping, and repeating. She's babbling, and hell- I think she even has colic. We're both men of science, Marcus... I just don't know how to explain this scientifically."

Marcus tilted his head, leaning forward and taking a blank page from the left side of his desk, beginning to write, "Oh, me and your father have experienced our fair share of unbelievable happenings. Don't worry, Indiana, I'll make sure to get Dr. Richter up here as soon as possible; priority mail. Should take him a week at most. You think you can keep taking care of her for that long?"

Indiana sighed, "Marcus... school's starting up this week. I don't have a job - not even sure I can make rent this week. I don't got anything to take care of a baby with at home. Hell, I don't even have a full can of formula anymore-"

Marcus looked up from his writing and sighed. Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, he pulled out his wallet, "How much is your rent, Indy?"

Indiana's pride immediately bruised at Marcus fishing bills out of his wallet, "I mean, you don't have to-"

Marcus shook his head and pulled out a fifty dollar bill, "I'm 41, Indy. I have a stable job and a comfortable home. I'm not bailing you out from a mistake or something. Neither am I spoiling you. I'm keeping you alive and sane until you can pull yourself together on your own merits."

"Rent's twenty dollars a week," Indiana admitted.

Marcus added a ten dollar bill on top of the fifty, "There. Sixty dollars. Enough for rent, a babysitter or a daycare, and some supplies for her. No doubt Richter will require a few weeks to study her, and can't do that out of his hotel room. You can use the rest of it for incidentals then. If you really want to keep your pride intact, you can pawn off the goods if you give her up and pay me back, but I don't insist on it."

Indiana sighed, an earnest smile spreading across his face as he took the money, "Thanks, Marcus. You're a lifesaver."

"Bah," Marcus waved a hand, before fixing Indiana with a look, changing the subject as he said, "Mr. Ravenwood's teaching Archaeology this semester. I made sure they had your spot reserved even though your tuition was late. There's a creche on the college grounds, they should take babies. If you do it quick enough you can make it to his class."

Indiana nodded, quickly stuffing the bills into his pocket before he stood up, "Thanks a million, Marcus. You're a massive help!"

Marcus gave a wave as Indiana backed out of his office. With a sigh, he gave a glance over towards the portrait of Michael Brody, his father, hanging on the wall. Tapping his pen against his desk, he looked back down to the letter he was composing with a smile.

That Friday, Indiana slept in. Without classes, and with only a night shift at the restaurant he was working tables at, Indiana kept up with needing to spend the night awake comforting Anna by sleeping most of the morning... unless a class was happening, in which he had to stay awake to attend college. This, unfortunately, meant that Indiana was spending most of his time running on empty in terms of mental resources.

Mr. Ravenwood had already called him out twice in the two classes he'd spent with him since starting to the school year for nearly dozing out at his desk. The only things Indiana felt he did at home anymore was prepare food for himself, take care of Anna, and pass out on his bed. The place already smelled, dishes had piled up by the sink, and his bed was a state.

A knock echoed through the door of his apartment.

Indiana groaned as he was stirred from slumber, and he rolled over. Hopefully, they'd realize he was asleep and leave him alone.

Another knock came from the door, this time accompanied with the shout of, "Indy! It's me, Marcus Brody!"

The sound of Marcus's voice, combined with Anna stirring in her newly-bought crib and making noises finally convinced Indiana to leave the temptress embrace of his bed. Brushing a hand over the top of the crib as he walked past, Indiana got to the door, undoing the bolt and opening the door.

"You look like hell, Indiana," Marcus said almost as soon as the door opened.

Reaching up and rubbing his itchy eyes, Indiana felt the extra skin bagging up underneath his eyes, "Screams all night. Work or classes all day."

Marcus frowned, "Oh, that's not right at all."

"Colic or something. I think I told you already," Indiana shrugged, "The guy who said it said it'd go away in a month or so..."

A dark figure appeared behind Marcus, who stepped aside and gestured to him, "Well. Indiana. Sorry to disturb your sleep, but you should meet Dr. Johan Richter. He simply couldn't wait until next week for you to show up to the college again."

Indiana warily watched as the man approached. He was white, European if Indiana had to guess, around five foot and a half. He had blonde hair, green eyes, and a smile on his face as he approached, "Guten tag, Mr. Jones. Any friend of Brody is a friend of mine."

Indiana stared as the man offered his hand for a shake. Peering over at Marcus, he growled, "You didn't tell me he'd be a German."

Marcus's expression faded as he looked between the Johan and Indiana, "Oh... I... didn't know you were predisposed against..."

Clenching his teeth, Indiana hooked the edge of his foot against the side of his door, "I fought krauts like this guy for two whole years. They killed my friends, shelled my trenches, and nearly gassed me to death. His friends smashed babies' heads in in Belgium. If you'd been there, you'd think the exact same way."

Sleep deprivation coupled with his memories of the war made Indiana nearly slam the door shut right there and then, however the voice of the doctor interrupted him just as a sliver of door was open.

"Herr Jones. I understand your frustration..." he began, "I assure you, I am no soldier. I have a bad leg, and I was avoided during the drafts. I am purely a man of science," he stepped in front of the door, peeking through the gap, "War is a terrible business, I apologize to you for the harm my people caused. However, we should put aside our differences for this discovery you made in Panama, yes?"

Indiana groaned as he remembered why Richter was here to begin with. If he didn't get Anna looked at, he couldn't keep his promise to Rich, couldn't get the chance to get her out of his hair...

He opened the door, "Sure, whatever. Come in. Don't make yourself at home, this place can't handle more than one person trying to be at home at once."

Backing away from the door and sitting down at his bed, Indiana rubbed his eyes again as he watched Marcus and Johan enter his room. The former of them looked around in slight disgust at the state of the place. The latter, however, walked directly over to the crib.

"Curious. You are treating them as a human baby?" Richter asked. Indiana only spared a tired nod towards him.

Anna, annoyed by the sudden wake up call, fussed as the german zoologist crouched next to the crib and looked inside. Adjusting his glasses, Johan gently pulled back the blankets, procuring a notepad and pencil from his pocket with his other hand. Tapping the rubber end of the pencil against his chin, he marvelled, "You were not joking, Brody. This is... extremely fascinating."

Indiana got up as Anna let out a single cry as she fussed about, walking over to the stove to heat some water. Sticking a can opener into the top of one of the cans and lighting the stove, he watched the zoologist carefully with a sidelong stare.

"The vocal range... I could imagine it maybe being the product of a syrinx..." Johan delicately coaxed Anna's mouth open, and she fussed again. Squinting, he shook his head, before using a finger to softly probe her throat, "No... no, vocal cords, I think. Very flexible oral tract, sacrificing muzzle length for more mobility, perhaps to accommodate vocal range."

Johan pulled the blanket back farther, "Wings? Fledgling? Or vestigial? The feather mass..." he felt Anna's wings between his index and thumb, "Very downy. Perhaps they do grow out, maybe they're used for gliding? From what? Trees? Can't be trees, I cannot imagine this creature being a proficient climber, though it would make sense in its natural environment... you said it was found in Panama?"

Indiana switched the stove off before the kettle boiled. Feeling the side of the kettle with quick taps with his knuckles, he waited for it to cool off slightly as he poured more formula into a recently-cleaned baby bottle, "Uh huh. Rainforest."

"Maybe it's meant to be a cliff dweller? Though, the wideness of the hooves..." Anna stared curiously as Johan lifted one of her forehooves, looking into its frog, "More befitted to flat land than rocky cliffsides. I imagine if it were meant to be a climber, it may have cloven hooves like a goat. These flat ones just wouldn't do on rocky terrain. I can't imagine where else they would get any use of wings."

Johan flinched in shock as he raised his finger, Anna's hoof following it upwards as if latched on by an invisible force. Despite Anna's hooves being... well... hooves, she had grasped the finger he had used to examine him and latched on, despite not deforming her hoof in the lightest, applying any suction... Johan's finger almost seemed magnetized to her limb, "...Fascinating..." he breathed.

With only a small amount of force, he pulled his finger away from the infant's magical grip and stood, "I would... love to study her further. Can I take her to the university?"

"No," Indiana almost immediately answered. Johan and Marcus both quirked an eyebrow towards the young man as he stuttered, "Not alone. I want to come too."

"Oh, but of course," Johan chuckled nervously, reaching down to snatch the infant from her crib. She instantly began to cry.

Indiana walked over, holding out his arms in a gesture that was half a request, and half a demand. Johan, fighting against the squirming quadruped, gladly handed the animal over. She calmed down as Indy cradled her, and together they made for the door.

The rest of the day was spent in a laboratory in the university, which had been cleared for the express purpose of the study. Johan took all sorts of measurements, such as measuring lengths of fur, taking all sorts of samples, measuring heart rate, and palpating various parts of the body to get a general idea of the musculature. He also positively identified her as a female mammalian - though Indy could have told him that himself.

Indiana stood back, watching the German carefully poke and prod his charge. Once or twice, the scientist muttered something in surprise - rattling off some technical jargon underneath his breath. The zoologist's fascination seemed to have no limits, satisfying himself with furiously scribbling notes while Indiana took Anna to be fed and changed. Johan's eyebrows shot upwards when Anna began to babble, and he hurried to grab a dictaphone to record the sounds of her babble.

Marcus Brody, with just as equally little experience in zoology as Indiana, simply stood back and watched most of the proceedings. He looked on with a brighter countenance, smiling as he noted to the younger man, "This, Indy, is science in action. Look at him go!"

"Yeah..." Indiana muttered, eyes narrowed. He stood within reach of Anna, both arms crossed as he watched the work.

"Incredibly fascinating... Mr. Jones? Have you kept her around many other human babies?" Johan suddenly piped up, listening to the playback earpiece of the dictaphone as he did so.

Indiana frowned. She'd been near other babies at her time in the children's creche, "Why do you ask?"

"Her babbling, I am wondering if this is a result of mimickry, or some actual attempt at language development," Johan mused, stopping the dictaphone and replacing the wax cartridge inside.

Right on cue, Anna began to speak more nonsense, all while trying her best to swallow her forehoof. This action rushed Johan to load another cylinder and begin another recording of her voice.

"You can't be suggesting, Doctor..." Marcus Brody's brow knitted as he stuttered, "Ph- The- Language development?"

"I would like to examine the brain, to compare it to a human's, but such a surgery would likely kill the subject. I wouldn't advise it until ve have more than one specimen," he responded, gently pulling up one of Anna's lips to examine her gums, "Light pink. Seems healthy."

"Healthy relative to what, mister?" Indiana asked, voice sharper than he intended it to be.

The doctor didn't seem to mind. He noted, "Relative to Equus Caballus. The common horse. It's the closest thing I could think to compare it to. A similarity in appearance seems to be where ze familiarity ends, mystifyingly."

Anna babbled again, stomach gurgling as she digested her most recent meal. Johan once again stuck a finger in her mouth, feeling her gums. He frowned.

"Zat does not feel like a horse's mouth," he said, keeping his finger inside her mouth even as she began to try and spit him out, "Hmm... we already see tooth eruption. Incisors, on ze top and bottom of ze mouth. I can feel molars coming in the back as well... and all the way to ze front."

"She was all gums when I first found her," Indiana noted, for the first time willing himself to stand nearer to the German doctor to take a look at his charge, "I did feel some hardness in her gums around the front."

"Yes, yes," Johan took a flashlight and forced open Anna's jaw, much to her annoyance as she began to fuss. Still, as the light shone into her mouth, they revealed four small, white points along the bottom and top of her gums. Nodding, he said, "See?"

"Yeah. I see. Why's that so odd?" Indiana asked, shifting over as Marcus joined in to look into her mouth.

"I suppose it's only odd when comparing her to similar taxonomies," Johan mumbled, finally retracting his fingers out of her mouth.. She began to screech. Raising his voice to shout over her cries, he continued, "I will need to analyze her tooth growth very carefully! She has a very uncommon dental structure! It seems very ill-equipped for grazing!"

Indiana reached forward to grab his distressed prize, patting her slowly on the back to calm her down as he held her against his shoulder. Looking around her mass at the doctor, he asked, "The teeth are really what mystifies you? What about the damn eyes? How about the voice?"

Johan Richter chuckled weakly, turning his palms skywards in a weak shrug, "I suppose those are all very odd as well. She has binocular vision, like a predator, as opposed to monocular vision like a prey animal. Despite this, she lacks any teeth to process meat properly," he felt her wings again, "...Perhaps a trait adapted for flight? Though, that mystifies me further. She is far too heavy to fly. She already weighs more than most heavy birds. Unless her body is about to stop growing and she is about to gain a lot of wing surface, she seems to be flightless..." he bit his lip and shook his head, "It all makes no sense. She should be extinct, unless I am missing something."

Marcus Brody licked his lips, looking between Indy, Anna, and Johan, "Where do we go from here, doctor?"

Johan scratched his chin, "It is likely I am missing something, indeed. I would like to request a few more months to draft a full report and continue observing her. I vill be trying to keep this all... under wraps. I have insufficient information to make even a preliminary report to my peers at this time. If it's at all possible, I vould like to trouble you to keep this all silent for just a little while longer," a pause, "I would pay any costs incurred by her care."

Before Indiana could consider the offer, Marcus interrupted, "Oh, no, Johan. I know you're not a rich man. I have already been supporting Indy fiscally. I can continue to while you finish your research. You likely have more than enough financial troubles keeping yourself in this city for that long."

"I-" Indiana began, but he was shortly interrupted.

"Oh, no, the profits this paper will make should more than make up for the costs. I insist, Dr Brody," Johan shot back.

"No, I insist!" Brody argued, placing his hands on his hips.

"No, I do!"

"No, I double insist!"

"Bah!" Johan threw his hands into the air, turning to Indiana, "Vhat can I do? He double insisted!"

"Right..." Indiana deadpanned, still patting the softly sniffling Anna on his shoulder.

"It won't be too troublesome to take care of her for another two months, would it Indy?" Marcus asked, lowering one of his hands to lean on a nearby table.

Indiana slowly, regretfully shook his head, "...It'll be just swell."

That night, Indiana sat with his back to the head of his bed.

His eyes were lined with dark, puffy bags from a lack of sleep. His arms limply stroked the crying, wailing creature on his stomach. Rain pattered against his window. The occasional sounds of gunshots and shouting - not uncommon for the section of the city he lived in - were heard from the streets below. An electric space heater was the only thing that fought back the cold, late-winter draft that came in through the gaps in the windowframe.

Anna had decided, once again, to begin crying for no reason in the middle of the night. Indy had very little choice but to stay up with her, willing that the next moment the pain troubling the infant should fade and they might both be allowed to sleep.

Yet, no such relief came.

The young man found himself introspecting as he stared up at his ceiling, slowly stroking the back of the screaming child. Slowly, his hand reached over the side of his bed to an instrument case lying beside it. Clumsily, in the dark, he undid the clasps holding it shut and opened the lid. Inside was a saxophone, which reflected a tiny bit of the light from the window.

Adjusting the position of the infant on his stomach, Indiana raised the saxophone to rest on his knee and gave it an experimental blow. The sound confirmed that the instrument's condition had not degraded in his time away, and he flexed his fingers as he placed them in the correct places and began to play.

Twinkle, Twinkle, LIttle Star. It was practically all he knew how to do. He'd been instructed to learn how to play it forwards and backwards, over and over again, before moving onto more complicated things. He played when he felt sad, when he felt down and out. It was one of the few hobbies he had.

That night, he cared very little about the volume of his noise. Despite the content of his song being simplistic, perhaps even childish, the outlet still brought tears to his eyes. After his third playthrough of the song, he switched it up, experimentally jabbing at something he hadn't practiced yet. Without the music in front of him, the noise he made probably sounded like quite the unearthly racket.

For Indy, though, it still made him feel better. Aside from alcohol, it was one of the few things that kept his mind off of his situation. Off of the money, off of the German, off of school, off of the crying...

Crying...

He looked down the length of his saxophone. There, lying next to his right leg, Anna slept soundly. He paused in temporary amazement as she snored softly, tiny little lungs expelling tiny little puffs of air. He didn't get a chance to continue, though, as a fist slammed into the wall next to his bed.

"CUT IT OUT, BOY! SOME OF US GOT WORK IN THE MORNIN'!"

Indiana's skin tingled as he checked to make sure the noise hadn't woken up Anna. However, the infant was still asleep, likely just as tired as he was. Not wanting to even risk moving her to the crib, he grabbed his pillows and blanket, making his best attempt at creating a railing to prevent her from rolling off the bed, before he promptly passed out on the floor.

Author's Note

There is a very large gap in my drafts between this chapter and other parts of the story. Chapter releases will slow down for a while as these holes are patched, then speed back up by the time I arrive at pre-written stuff again.

5: Mentors, 1920

"Archaeology is all about context," Professor Abner Ravenwood said, drawing a circle around the word 'Context' on the chalkboard. Turning to his class, chalk still held between his thumb and index finger, the man projected his voice across the lecture hall, "Without context, relics are completely without meaning."

Forty or so students, arrayed across desks in an ascending, amphitheater-styled classroom all looked on, enraptured. The scribbling of pencils filled the air as students took detailed notes, marking down dates, the lecturer, and the introduction to the lecture. Indiana Jones, sitting all the way at the back of the class, eyelids heavy and hardly grasping the world, simply wrote the word 'context' at the top of his page. Ironically, he failed to add any of the word's namesake.

Ravenwood walked over to his desk, picking up a package, wrapped in cloth, that he had walked in with. Unwrapping it, he revealed a brilliant, obsidian arrowhead. Holding it up for the class, electrical lighting sparkling both off of its surface and his spectacles, the Professor asked, "This relic. What is it? We can tell by its composition that it may have an origin from a culture living near volcanic regions, but we have very little else. For all we know, it could be a cheap fake, with no historical significance whatsoever aside from perhaps relating to the exposure of its fabricator."

More notes were scribbled. Indy simply added the word 'arrowhead', hoping his future self would remember what he meant.

He lowered the arrowhead once again, "Let's, for example, assume we found this arrowhead in a riverbed. Perhaps, then, it may be assumed that the culture it belonged to used arrows for fishing? Perhaps there was an ancient battle site there, the river changing directions to cover it?" he wrote various scenarios down on the blackboard, branching out from the word 'context', the arrowhead still clutched in his off-hand, "What if we found it buried with a body? Perhaps the body was killed with the arrowhead, or perhaps the culture buried weaponry along with their people? To answer these questions, we have to assimilate more context. We have to get the opinions of geologists to learn how the site became what it is, examine native lore, find relationships between it and other pieces, perform a detailed examination of the dig site. The list goes on and on: This is what archaeology is."

Ravenwood stepped back from the chalkboard, examining his work as the sounds of notes being taken filled the air behind him, "More and more in this modern century, we are looking to studying in-situ, rather than extracting artefacts to foreign areas. Even if we may know the context in which it was discovered, moving an arrowhead like this may just eliminate the minute details that seem irrelevant to the untrained eye, but are more valuable to science and society than any gold doubloon or buried treasure."

"Well!" Ravenwood snapped a finger, approaching his board again and beginning to draw instructions, "Let's open our textbooks and look at some real examples of this..."

Indiana would have joined in as the sounds of covers hitting desks and papers being flipped filled the air. However, despite his best efforts, he was face-down in his textbook, snoring softly.

"Jones...?" a voice came softly, "Jones...?"

Indiana remembered something about needing to turn his textbook over as he slowly raised his head, a line of drool separating from his mouth and stretching between it and the surface below him. Before he could straighten up, a hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him, jerking his eyes open.

"Jones!" Ravenwood shouted sternly, brows curled and lips turned into a frown, "What's the matter with you, boy!?"

"Huh...?" Indiana blinked, rubbing his eyes as he assessed his environment. The classroom was empty, and a cleaner was working across the stage to sweep up and take out the liner of a bin. Abner Ravenwood stood over him, a briefcase at his side and a stern look on his face.

"This is the fifth time I've caught you dozing off in class, boy. You were bright and attentive last year. What's going on now?" the elder man scolded, placing his hands on his hips.

"Sorry, teach, I just came back from Central America a few weeks ago and..." Indiana's brow wrinkled as he tried to find the best way to explain his predicament, "There's... uh, this animal I found while I was down there. I've needed to take care of it, and I've been losing a ton of sleep?"

Ravenwood tipped his head, looking over his spectacles at the young student, "An... animal?" he asked, dubious.

"Yeah it's like this..." Indiana made vague gestures with his hands, "...Horse-thing, with wings."

Surprisingly, though, Abner raised his nose again and nodded, "So that's what all the fuss is about on campus," he muttered, "I also heard there's a zoologist from Philadelphia doing research on it. I wasn't aware you were an animal handler, Mr. Jones."

"Yeah well, I..." Indiana ran a thumb across his jawline nervously, "I actually found it in a ruin, Professor. Somewhere in the Panama Rainforest. You know that clock you were talking about-?"

"Compass, Mr Jones, Compass," Ravenwood sighed, reaching up to massage the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah the compass. It was there, and it was real, and-"

"Mr Jones, this was your last lecture for the day, wasn't it?" interrupted Ravenwood, reaching into a pocket and taking out a watch. Turning it around, he showed the student the time.

The legs of Indiana's seat screeched as he kicked back from his desk, "Holy shit! I'm gonna be late for work!" he swore as he began to quickly shovel his textbooks into his satchel.

Reaching down to calmly assist Indiana with his packing, Ravenwood offered, "Mr Jones, would you like me to drive you?"

"Would ya?" asked Indiana looked up, buckling his satchel shut and shrugging it back on into proper position.

"Not a problem. Where do you need to be?" the professor asked, sliding Indy's chair back in behind him and gesturing for the student to follow as he made for the door.

"Colosimo's. It's a restaurant," Indy explained as he walked down the stairs behind him.

"I know the place," Ravenwood gave a slight nod, waving goodbye to the caretaker as they exited out into the main hall, "I live in Hyde Park. It's right along the way."

Navigating the streets of Chicago at rush hour while in an automobile was not an easy task, but Ravenwood seemed to be more than capable. Droves of pedestrians, dashing past lines of cars and trucks along with the occasional tram and railcar caused traffic to be stop and start across the city. Yet, at the very least, behind the panes of glass and the frame of the cabin, it was easy to sit and appreciate the bustle and energy of the city.

Indiana's eyes scanned across billboards, advertising the latest products and deals. Advertisements for the upcoming elections were in full swing. It would officially be the first time Indiana would be able to vote in his own country, as the previous election had been just before he came of age.

...Though, in all fairness, he had been fighting in the war at that time.

Ravenwood, following Indiana's eyes, noted, "I hear they're going to put woman suffrage in the Constitution now."

"You think it'll pass?" Indiana asked, turning his eyes away from the street and towards his teacher.

"I believe so," Ravenwood gave a single nod, "They already let women vote in a lot of states."

"I met a bunch of woman suffragettes in London, back before the war," Indiana muttered, eyes wandering out the window again.

Ravenwood gave a grunt of simple acknowledgement, before making a turn and stopping at a crossing. Reaching up to brush his moustache, he tapped a finger on the wheel. Glancing over to his student, he eventually asked, "If you're here, and about to go to work, who is taking care of your animal?"

"Babysitter," Indiana said, as if it was obvious. Quickly, though, he realized how not obvious it was as he cast a nervous glance towards Abner's raised eyebrow.

"A... babysitter?"

Ms. Helen Scraw stood, back against the wall, simply staring at what was going to be her charge for the next eight hours. The foal chewed on its own hoof, shaking around an old rattle as it sat upright in its wooden crib. Its greyscale tail twitched, and it babbled quietly to itself as it shook the rattle repeatedly.

The woman now understood why she had been paid so much more than the usual rate, and why her instructions had come with the foreboding addition: 'don't mind anna's odd looks. she's got similar needs to human baby'.

The kettle whistled, yet the babysitter didn't turn the stove off. Helen instead reached into her breast pocket, retrieving a small flask. Prohibition was going to prevent her from getting more whiskey later on, so she had planned to save drink until she was truly desperate.

She had suddenly decided she was truly desperate.

"...She has human-like needs," Indiana explained sheepishly.

"I... see..." the professor muttered, pressing down on the accelerator as the intersection ahead became clear, "Erh, well, my apologies, but wouldn't an animal handler be a better person to put in charge of a rare animal?"

"I've- uh, it's being funded by Marcus Brody, head of acquisitions?" said Indiana, "It was sorta his idea, and he signs the cheques so..."

"Dr Brody is a good man," Ravenwood gave an approving nod, fortunately seeming to buy the change in subject, "You know him well?"

"He was a friend of my dad's."

"Dr. Henry Jones, I believe? Professor of Medieval Literature?" Ravenwood looked up into his rearview mirror to catch Indiana's gaze.

Ten years of latin classes and droning lectures about inane, judeo-christian lore flashed back through Indiana's mind. Silently, he grumbled, "Yep, that's him."

"I had the pleasure of talking to him once. His theories on the Grail Legend were certainly illuminating," Ravenwood said, offhandedly, before fortunately moving swiftly along, "What's your reason for getting into archaeology, Mr Jones?"

Indiana narrowed his eyes, looking past Ravenwood towards the shore of Lake Michigan, peeking through the gaps in the buildings, "Well, uh... I've just always been a fan of ancient history. Always wanted to pursue something academic, thought it'd be a stable job that I wouldn't be miserable in."

"A respectable goal, Mr Jones. More young men like you should think the same way, yet I don't blame them for not doing so. It can be rather hard for a young man to really grapple with his purpose in this world at their age," the professor's moustache turned up slightly as he smiled, "Sometimes, I believe, we get easily caught up in grand expectations and goals. Those're always good things to pursue and have, lest we succumb to melancholy. Yet... sometimes, the most important things are right in front of us.

"A place to rest your head, a filled savings account, a woman to settle down with, these are the things that should occupy a young man's mind first. Then, he should free himself to pursue his goals," Ravenwood asserted.

"I'd sure like a filled savings account," Jones snorted as they made a turn, moving down a long, crowded street, "Still got a long way ago until I can get that sweet tenure paycheck. Have to figure out something before my bachelor's is up, I don't think the bank will keep loaning me money for my Master's."

"You intend to go all the way to doctorate?" Ravenwood asked.

"Mhm."

"If you're free next summer, you should come with me to Egypt. I am planning an excavation of some ancient sites there," Ravenwood raised his nose again as his car slowed, blocked by a group of pedestrians crossing the road. Horns blared from nearby traffic, causing his lips to curl downwards.

"Last time I was in Egypt, I was with Ned..." a pause, before Indy clarified, "T.E. Lawrence. The Egyptologist."

"Now THAT is an exciting man!" Ravenwood gave a hearty chuckle, light twinkling off of his glasses as he turned to look at Indiana, "You've heard of his exploits during the War?"

"Hard not to," said Indiana as caught Ravenwood's infectious smile.

"Archaeologist, defender of civilization, in tune with the Arabian culture," Ravenwood's smile faded slightly as he sighed. Suddenly, he turned away from the road and towards Indy, "Mr Jones? Be truthful. What is your opinion on eugenics?"

Indiana's heart rate climbed as he shifted nervously. The science in question was one very closely related to anthropology, and outright refuting it could ruin relationships. Looking the older man up and down, he carefully considered his next words, "Erh... I think most of it is... not based in truth."

"Most of it?" Ravenwood urged.

Indiana shrugged, "I'm not a geneticist or anything. I can't really comment, but I can say what I know," reaching a hand up to rub his cheek, he cautiously relayed an anecdote, "Back when I was in North Africa, as a kid. I got kidnapped and nearly sold into slavery. I learned the hard way what it was like to be treated like you weren't human. I think it's all trash."

Ravenwood looked long and deep into Indiana's eyes, before his smile returned and he reached over, shaking his shoulder firmly, "Good lad!" removing his hand and extending an index finger, he shook it at the student as he firmly instructed: "Mr Jones, you will have many other teachers than just me in college. Never let any of them infect your mind with that garbage. It is entirely and totally unfounded in reality!"

Indiana let out a sigh of relief, "Thanks, Professor."

"Tell you what, I'll give you some extra credit if you read the works of Franz Boas. He has done some very good work. Write a short report, about a thousand words, on what you learn and I'll give you ten marks."

That was an easy assignment! Indiana's smile grew, "Gee, thanks! I'll-I'll be sure to do that!"

Ravenwood pulled the car over to the curb. Just down the road, the sign for Colosimo's glowed in the setting sun. Patting Indy on the back, Ravenwood bid him goodbye. Stepping out of the car and thanking his teacher again, Indiana shook hands with the man before taking off down the sidewalk to show up for his shift early, for once.

Marcus Brody stepped out of his Packard, putting on his hat as he tightened his coat around him and kicked the door shut behind him. While the changing of seasons was in full swing, now that it was mid March, it was still cold enough for Marcus to require his full coat jacket in order to not catch his death.

He very rarely visited the South Side, and even more rarely did he come alone. A group of vagabonds sitting on a nearby stairwell, cigarettes in their mouths, eyed up his expensive coat and his car already. He glanced past them towards Indy's apartment block, heart sinking as he realized he'd have to get past them to get inside.

Looking back the other way, he realized he'd more likely have to walk around the entirety of the block, lest he wanted to attempt to politely shimmy by a group of muggers. Just as he was considering his next move, back turned to the drifters, a hand suddenly patted him on the back, making him shriek.

"Dr Brody!" Indiana's voice came across his ears as Marcus whirled, heart thundering.

Reaching up to his chest, Marcus breathed a sigh of relief at his friend. The other man wore simple suspenders and pants, a striped shirt underneath and a cap on his head. Around his arm he had draped a waiter's uniform.

Adjusting his hat, Marcus said, "Indy, you gave me quite the fright!" an exasperated chuckle, "You really ought to move out of this neighborhood. I don't know how you feel safe around people like this!"

Indiana Jones shrugged, looking over his shoulder to the group sitting on the stairs, "I mean, I don't, but those guys aren't robbers. They're just street sweepers, Doc."

"Yes and I'm a rich man with an expensive car, human nature comes into play..." Marcus gave a weak shrug, before suddenly lurching forward as Indy grabbed him by the arm.

"Come. Let's get you inside. What're you here for, anyway?" Indiana said, leading him fearlessly past the grimey men.

"Erh- well, Dr. Richter is a little late today. I thought it might be nice to come over and pay you a social call, before driving you and Anna to the laboratory," Marcus said, tipping his hat to a random passer-by as they stepped up into the lobby of Indy's apartment.

"Hey, listen, I've gotta go and drop this off at the laundromat and get my previous load of washing out," Indiana said, hefting his uniform indicatively before reaching into his pocket and procuring a set of keys, "Can you run up to my unit and make sure Anna's not dying or something?"

Marcus Brody took the keys, before giving Indiana a horrified look, "You're just leaving her alone!?"

"She's asleep," Indiana shrugged, "I've gotta do my washing someday, Marcus. I'll be back in half an hour, okay?"

With that, Indiana turned and hurriedly strode out the door, leaving Marcus Brody in the lobby alone. With a sigh, the latter man made for the stairs, keeping his hands in his pockets as he ascended up to the third floor of the building. The units of the building were of mixed size, though none of them were larger than two bedrooms. Despite this, Marcus still dodged out of the way of children running down hallways and playing on the steps.

Arriving at the correct door, Marcus thumbed through Indy's keychain and inserted the correct blade into the lock. Entering, he took off his hat by reflex and hung it on a hook by the door, right next to a worn fedora. Shutting and locking the door behind him, Marcus took a moment to examine the room.

Ever since Johan had arrived for his first study of Anna, Indy had been bringing the infant to the college by his own means. So, it had not been since then that Marcus had seen the inside of Indiana's apartment.

His nose scrunched slightly at the smell. The room definitely smelled like baby, and not in any good way. To his right, a kitchenette was positively soiled with coffee grounds, crumbs, and half-done dishes laying across counters and in the sink. A small icebox had been left hanging open, and Marcus spied a rather sparse collection of staples inside as he pushed the door shut. A less than appealing toilet lay through a door to his left, and items had been left strewn across the floor.

At the very back of the room, an infant, alien equine lay in a crib, snoozing softly. It was, perhaps, the only thing in the room that was perfectly clean.

Marcus grimaced, walking over to the far side of the room and reaching over, unlatching and opening Indy's window to allow some of the stench to escape. Cold air began to leak in past the pane, and gently Marcus reached down to adjust the soft,, second-hand blanket that covered the mustard-colored animal's sleeping form.

"Indy, your place is a cardboard box..." Marcus muttered to himself. He felt a pang of guilt, perhaps he should have considered paying him more? He supposed it was only temporary, until the American Zoological Association took the creature, but still...

Marcus looked down to the dishes laying in the sink. He had a housekeeper, but he had never considered himself beyond the menial task of cleaning up. He owed that to his parents, who had demanded he always clean his own plates after dinner, despite their own levels of wealth. He grabbed at the ends of his gloved fingers, drawing off the garments and shoving them in his pockets. Finally, rolling back the sleeves of his jacket, he turned on the faucet.

The man gave the dishes as good of a scrubbing as he could, before drying them and reaching for the cupboard to put them away. Inside, the clean dishes were jumped up in a chaotic mess, making Marcus sigh and pull several of them out. With the clattering of ceramic and tin, he reorganized the dishes, putting them away in such a way that every single one of Indiana's utensils actually fit inside of the cabinet.

Taking a peek over his shoulder, Marcus saw no movement from the crib. Giving a self-satisfied nod, he dried his hands and reached into his pocket, putting his gloves back on. Then, using his feet, he began to kick the items strewn across the floor into a pile, before leaning over, much to the distress of his lower back, to begin picking them off the floor and organizing them.

There was a bag of spare nappies, a can of shoe polish, a bundle of twine, a bullwhip, a book on anthropology, several changes of dirty clothes, several changes of clean clothes, and several dirty baby bottles. By the time Marcus was done clearing the floor, standing up and cradling his back, he turned to see Anna awake and staring at him while sucking on her hoof.

"Well, good..." Marcus quickly checked his watch, "...Afternoon, young one!"

Anna responded by promptly beginning to fuss.

Walking over to Indiana's bed to sit down to relieve his back and be within arm's length of the crib, Marcus reached down to pick the creature up. He approached the situation in an awkward manner, not knowing exactly how to pick up the creature. Was it like a dog, with two hands around the barrel? Indiana had been carrying it like a human infant, so was it by the shoulders?

Anna began to cry, Marcus once again noting with a sense of eerie displeasure just how odd it was for such an animalistic being to give such a human vocalization. With a slight shrug, he simply reached out and grabbed her in what he believed to be the most gentle way possible.

Despite his best intentions, as he sat down and tried to cradle her, she fought back against his grip. Her fussing and crying turned into screams, and Marcus winced as her shrieks pierced his ears, "Now, now..." he began, awkwardly, "I- erh, I've got you."

His words seemed to instill no confidence, and the shrieking continued.

He felt her diaper. It was fine. He held her out in front of him and moved a finger near her mouth, yet she didn't seem to want to suckle. Eventually, a bright idea came into his mind as he craned to reach the window, pulling it closed, "Too cold?" he queried as the window came shut.

Her cries died down, and for a moment, she made eye contact through squinted, tear-streaked magenta eyes. Promptly, though, the crying continued.

A knock came at the door, "Hey! Marcus! Let me in!"

Awkwardly maneuvering the infant creature to hold it with one hand, Marcus staggered over to the door and unlocked it. Shortlya fter, Indiana pushed the door open, hauling in with him a full basket of laundry.

"I'm sorry, Indy, she just started crying and I don't know why," Marcus apologized as another shrill cry pierced the air. With her forehooves, the creature reached out towards Indiana, who shoved the door closed behind him.

"Babies just kinda do that from time to time, Marcus," Indiana said in a tired tone, putting down the laundry basket and taking Anna into his arms. Her cries began to die down shortly after, much to the older man's amazement. For a moment, the young archaeologist just stroked her back and hushed her, bobbing up and down with his knees as he gazed around the apartment, "...You cleaned up?" he noticed.

"Erh, yes, well, I had nothing better to do," Marcus admitted, following his gaze around the room, "These really are rather miserable conditions, Indy. You must look for a better apartment - I'd pay the difference in rent. I don't want to see you living like this."

Indiana rolled his eyes, walking over to the bed and sitting down with a squeak of mattress springs, "It'll be fine. Just another month and I can afford something better on my own."

Marcus Brody, despite himself, gave a slight smile at that. Indiana was just as stubborn as his father. Walking over to the kitchenette, Marcus leaned on a counter opposite to Indiana as he said, "You two seem to have a good connection. She calmed right down when you took her."

"Yeah, kinda eerie isn't it?" Indiana said, taking his eyes off Marcus and towards Anna as she stared up at him from his shoulder, "...You think Dr Richter might be right about that language thing?"

"I would be shocked if he were right," Marcus admitted, "It would mean that we are not alone as the only intelligent life on this planet. It'll be a revolution of science and philosophy."

"...What if she turns out to be intelligent?" Indiana asked, voice almost... harrowed?

Marcus took a moment to consider, tapping his fingers against the wooden side of the cabinets beneath the counter. He eventually answered with, "Well, I suppose it would be a new paradigm. She'd likely be taken to be studied and cared for by the nation's top scientists. You'd be famous for discovering it as well."

"Maybe I'm just a bit of a cynic, Marcus, but..." Indy sighed, looking back over to his friend before saying, "Imagine being in those shoes. Being kept to be studied your entire life in some far away place, then brought out to be a spectacle for journalists and reporters..."

"An unfortunate existence, perhaps," Marcus nodded in agreement, "Yet what other choice is there? It's not like you could just..." a dry chuckle, "Adopt her out to some human family."

Anna craned her neck to try and look behind herself. Indiana adjusted his grip on her, allowing her to see Marcus. Slowly, she glanced between them as their conversation continued.

"I met this guy on the trip back here from Panama. Name's Richard. He insisted to me that she was going to have the same needs as a human child, and made me give my word that if she turned out to be..." a pause, "...more, that I should keep her."

Marcus's eyebrows raised, and he looked between Anna and Indiana with new perspective. Suddenly, he didn't feel like he was in an apartment with a friend and a rare animal. Instead, he felt he was in the apartment of a single father. The metaphor was uncannily accurate to him.

Blinking, Marcus eventually, slowly said, "...Indy...? You... you do know how... impractical that would be?"

"Trust me, I've thought really long and hard about it," Indiana sighed, averting his eyes again, "That's why I'm considering breaking my word anyway."

Marcus nodded along, slowly, "This has been very stressful for you, hasn't it?"

"...Yeah," Indiana's shoulders slumped, "I just don't trust what guys like Richter would do to her. You hear him, talking about how much he'd like to examine her brain."

Marcus Brody huffed, "Now, Indy, that's basic scientific curiosity. You can hardly blame him for..." a pause, as he stuttered for a moment, "This- this isn't about the fact he's German, is it?"

Indiana rolled his eyes, "No!" a pause, "-Okay maybe a little bit, but it really extends farther than that," he looked back down to Anna, "Look at her. Dy'a really think something like this deserves a future in a zoo?"

Marcus levelled his eyes at the creature. For a moment, they shared eye contact as she stared, cluelessly, up at him. Marcus, frowning slightly, adjusted the wings of his coat, "...I know how easy it can be to become... connected, Indy. I mean this only out of concern for your own well-being, but... I fear you may not be thinking clearly."

Indiana, to his credit, seemed to put in effort to restrain himself as he evenly asked, "How?"

"Well, think about your academic career. Already, your scholarly work is suffering from needing to take care of her. Think about the state of your apartment, is this really any way to live?" Marcus gave a vague gesture around, "Are you willing to live this way for the next twenty years of your life? Are you willing to give up your adventures for her?"

A pause, before Indiana sighed and responded, "...I dunno, Marcus. That's really what I'm trying to figure out."

"How long have you been thinking this through?"

"Since I got back to America," he admitted.

"You would be no less of a man to entrust her care to experienced professionals, Indy," Marcus Brody reminded softly, clasping his hands in front of himself, "I know you regretted deeply the impulse that made you join the Army. I need you to truly introspect and ask yourself where these thoughts are coming from."

Indiana looked down into the eyes of the animal he at least believed was his child, before saying, "Marcus, let's just say, theoretically, I chose to keep her. What would you do?"

Marcus Brody heaved a long-suffering sigh, looking up towards the ceiling as he searched his mind for an answer, "Well... we'd have to figure out a way to convince Johan not to publish his papers. With enough public attention, you may not exactly have a choice in the matter."

"...Right," Indiana sighed, stroking the back of the animal some more as she fussed, "What would you do if I made the decision to keep her?"

Marcus understood what Indiana meant, pushing off the cabinet and walking into the center of the room as he added, "Perhaps I might not understand why, perhaps I might not agree with you, but..." Marcus reached out an arm, laying a hand on Indy's shoulder, "I'd find any way to help that I could, Indy," he gave the younger man a single pat on the shoulder, before backing away and adding, "Come now. We should get going to the university."

Indiana stood and followed him to the door, each man taking their respective hats from the hangar as they exited, not before Indiana picked up all the supplies he needed to tide her over her checkup at the laboratory.

Author's Note

This one cleared the editing queue ahead of schedule, which has made me paranoid. Point out any issues you see if they end up bugging you.

6: Intelligent Life, 1920

Indiana Jones awoke from the most restful sleep he'd had in the past four months to the sounds of crying. Rubbing his bleary, puffy eyes, he looked over to his bedside table. The hands of his alarm clock read 5:42 PM. Right next to it in the crib, Anna hung her forehooves over the railing, trying her best to get his attention by screaming.

The last time he remembered being awake was around 2. He'd slept an entire four hours. Definitely a record length since his coma in Panama. Sitting up, he knew the drill as he got to work.

A bath began to fill, all while Indiana changed Anna's diaper. Shortly afterwards, he got a can of baby food - a high protein mash and put it on the stove to warm it up. Dr Richter had recommended over a month ago that it was probably high time to start putting Anna on solid foods as her teeth started to grow, in fact he'd noted that she was likely far overdue for moving to solid foods considering his estimates on her development. The Doctor was proven right, as Anna moved readily away from consuming formula.

Shutting off the faucet in the bathroom and adding soap to the bath, Indiana soon turned off the stove and plated the warm mash. After procuring a spoon, he began to feed the infant, who readily stopped her bawling to eat. Despite how hungry she was, most of the food still managed to miss her mouth and get smeared all over her muzzle instead. Wrapping his hands around her barrel, he hoisted her upwards and carried her towards the bathroom.

She was definitely heavier than she had been at the beginning of the year. He'd heard the saying 'they grow up fast', but hadn't ever stopped to think if it was literal or not.

With a foot he pushed a stepstool up to the side of the bathtub, sitting down on it shortly after. Anna's diaper came off, before she was lowered into the water, despite her squirming and the fluttering of her wings. She began to fuss, with high pitched screeches and tight gasps as Indiana began to work the water and soap through her thin coat.

As his hands went through well-practiced motions of scrubbing, he found himself becoming introspective. Over the past months, his life had been retooled around caring for Anna. He had less time to hit the bars - they were outlawed anyway - and even less time to sleep. Almost every spare second that he wasn't in class or bussing tables at Colosimo's was spent around this infant, tending to its every need.

He had been sure he would've hated it. The drag and dread he felt at needing to render the care necessary was one of the major things weighing on his mind as he came home to Chicago. Yet, despite it all, it somehow felt... worth it?

Her big, pinkish eyes squeezed shut as Indiana raked a scrub brush through her poofy, greyscale mane. Indiana had always been told that taking care of a plant or adopting a pet was good for the mind and soul. Marcus had recommended he do something of the sort when they first became friends - shortly after Indiana arrived home from the War. Absorbed in study and work, Indiana had never gotten the chance to pursue either.

It was simply easier to drown sorrows. In some cases, alcohol was cheaper than water... at least before Prohibition. He'd tried smoking once or twice as a cheap way to relieve the stress, but could never quite get a taste for the tobacco. It would be healthy for his lungs if he smoked more, this much he knew, but it was just easier to forget himself in work and recreation than to pick up new, healthy habits.

Indiana Jones finally put his finger on why he was no longer annoyed and angry at Anna. It wasn't just the fact that her colic had gone away, it was the fact that some of his nightmares had gone away, it was the fact that when he looked into her eyes he knew he mattered to somebody, it was her calming right down when he picked her up out of Marcus's arms, and it was the possibility that some day she would be able to express appreciation for it.

A dog might be loyal for life to a kind master. A plant might create a beautiful bloom or yield fresh fruit. He had had the feeling for a long time now that Anna was more than either of those.

Was it selfish to think of her as a 'project'? Something he tinkered on, like those people who assembled their own automobiles or built radio sets at home, just to give him the satisfaction of a job well done in the end? Was he that shallow? Assuming she was just like any child on the inside, would he just be keeping her around for his own satisfaction?

A wince. No, no amount of shallow satisfaction would counterbalance the amount of blood, sweat, and tears he'd already put into her for just a few months of parenting. While every waking moment he wished there was an easier way to keep a child maintained, he absolutely felt no compulsion to give up when the going got tough. That's probably what demarcated a parent from a caregiver, then? Never giving up and stopping caring, even when things got unreasonably tough?

He growled at himself at his frustration, moving down to scrub Anna's body.

Was he just being foolish to think he should keep her? Adopt her as his own? A single father, still wet behind the ears. He imagined the scorn of his peers and teachers, wondering if he had obtained a bastard child. Of course, the reality would be even stranger - though he'd have to keep it low key. The reporters would tear them apart if it meant they could sell a few more papers. In all likelihood, he was better off to pat himself on the back for a job well done and let the cards fall where they may when the scientists eventually took her.

What kind of life would it be for the child, if he kept her? Assuming she was like any other human, she'd be ostracized if she got within a mile of other children. She'd have to be privately tutored, like Indiana was when he was young, and would probably grow up very lonely. Indiana knew how terrible it was to be raised by a single father- was it going to be any different if she never got a chance to know her mother?

There was the financial situation, as well. She was going to, very soon, outgrow her crib and his current living situation would soon just be impractical for the two of them. If he was going to move out, he'd need to take on more hours... and likely lose out on keeping his bank loans in check. No loans from the bank and no savings meant he would likely not be able to pay for his final year of bachelor studies. Perhaps Brody would cover his financial shortcomings... but the last thing Indiana wanted was another man bailing him out.

As he worked his fingers through her tiny, fluffy wings, he thought back to Marcus's advice. Was he willing to give up his dream career for this? Was this another Great War? An idea that sounded amazing in Indy's head, but one that was going to pan out terribly for everyone involved?

Indiana Jones finally reasoned his way through the conflict. Two minds battled for dominance in his head. One side came from a deep, visceral part of him. A part of him always searching for reason and purpose to life, beyond buying a car or winning valor in war. That part of him saw the alien foal, currently trying to eat the soap suds covering one of its forehooves, as the answer to all of his problems. The other part tried to argue reason, reminding him of all the times he had chosen wrongly in the past, all the reasons why it was a bad idea in the present, and simply trying to keep him from hurting himself in the future.

It was too late, though, and Indiana's lips drew into a tight line as he finished scrubbing Anna down. Looking up into her eyes, which stared right back into his, he made his decision.

"I dunno what it's gonna take," Indiana said, voice somber, "I dunno how I'm gonna figure this out... but I think I wanna give being your father a shot," a weak chuckle as he ran a thumb across her cheek, "Indiana Jones has been through more tight scrapes than any guy his age ought to be through. Every time I've made it out though. This time we've got to make it out together."

Anna responded by regurgitating a bit of her previous meal into the bathwater. Some of it splashed onto the sleeve of Indiana's pijamas on the way down.

With a sigh, Indiana quickly extricated Anna from the bath and began to towel her down. Her fur absorbed more water than the average baby, and it took an extra towel to truly get her dry. She was less fussy than usual, though, and began to babble to herself as Indiana set her on the ground and went about draining and cleaning the bathtub.

"Jababa..." she babbled, picking up one of Indiana's old slippers from underneath the sink. Indiana paid her no mind, using the suds still in the basin to scrub some of the collecting muck along the sides of the bathtub... that is, until she spoke again. This time, it was in a single, pronounced word: "Jones!"

"Jones!" Anna repeated, looking straight into the eyes of the fedora-toting man crouching in front of her.

Taking the microphone of the dictaphone away from Anna's muzzle and placing it back on its hook, Dr. Johan Richter raised a hand to his chin, "We recorded the beginnings of sylabyl formations and pattern correlation. It seems we were right, language development was just around the corner."

Marcus Brody wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, eyes wide and hands quivering, "R-Remarkable... I never thought I'd live to see the day. Humanity is not the only intelligent life within our universe."

"Now, philosophers must tackle an entirely new dimension to the intelligent life debate!" Johan chuckled, reaching for his eyes and displacing his glasses to rub them, "We shall have to monitor her neural development very, very closely from here on out. Every emotional and intellectual breakthrough must be carefully recorded."

A pause, "Well, Mr Jones, your time of suffering has come to an end. I believe this will be more than enough to send to the university. I can collect the crea- ze child, I suppose we should call her, whenever it is convenient for you. How about we discuss payment in Dr Brody's office?"

Indiana's heart rate began to rise as he looked up towards the German doctor. He had not yet relayed his feelings to Marcus, yet he had found himself confronted. It was probably now... or never. Time to keep a promise, and pray that he wasn't going to regret it. He took a deep breath as he stood, every part of his logical mind screaming at him to keep silent.

"...Listen, I need to say something," Indiana Jones sighed, placing his hands in his pockets.

Dr Richter took off his glasses, making casual eye contact with Indiana as he waited for the younger man to continue. Marcus Brody raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. A look on Marcus's face told Indiana that he had a suspicion as to what was about to be said. Still, Indiana glanced towards Anna, swallowing the lump in his throat, before looking back to the other two men.

"I uh, want to keep her," he finally admitted, taking off his hat and holding it in front of his stomach, "When she said her first word, I think that just confirmed something I've been really considering for a long time."

Richter blinked. Looking between Anna and Indiana, he narrowed his eyes and said, "...This is some sort of joke, ja?"

"No," said Indiana as his lips formed a thin line.

Marcus bit his lip, looking between the other two humans in the room and rocking nervously on his feet. He remained silent.

Richter folded his arms, clearly still confused, "You... wish to sign on as her permanent caretaker? It would require you move... and likely the government would need to vet you..."

"No, more like an actual father," Indiana sighed, before sidling towards Anna, reaching out a hand to ruffle the back of her mane. The child paid little attention to the touch, instead walking shakily towards the dictaphone to play with it as Indiana continued, "The fact that she can speak proves she isn't an animal. We can't treat her like an animal in any way. If a human child was born with a weird condition that required study, they would remain with their parents while studied. I don't see why she should be treated any differently," a pause, as Indy realized his hands were shaking. Clenching his fists, he continued, "If you publish your findings, this city will crawl with reporters. Washington will confiscate Anna, and she'll be living the rest of her life in what'll amount to prison."

Richter's face fell into a scowl as he raised his nose and said, "Young man, I think you underestimate the seriousness of this situation. As Dr Brody said, this is a paradigm shift for humanity. Every stage of her development must be closely monitored. Perhaps she might suffer, but the greater good must be taken into consideration, Mr Jones."

The levels of respect Indiana had for the man were already low, but his predictable resistance to the idea made him roll his eyes - an action from which he had no desire to restrain himself, "I don't think I really give a shit, Doc. I-"

Richter slammed a hand on the desk next to him, "A-And what makes you think, Mr Jones," he spat, "That this treatment will be so miserable for her? Have you any ideas about what lifestyles and requirements may be programmed into her DNA? Do you think you could provide nearly as many material needs as a fully funded program could?"

"Shut up!" Indiana shouted, thrusting a finger at him, "What do you think you know about mistreatment? If they can put human beings in zoos and call it science, what do you think they'll do to her!?"

"Answer ze question, Jones! What makes you think you have all the answers!? This is unknown life!" Richter leaned forward, the two men's faces being mere inches away from each other as they shouted. He thrusted a hand towards Anna, who was chewing on the dictaphone receiver and watching the argument.

"I know that a life without a caring parent isn't much of a life at all!" Indiana shouted back, spittle unintentionally coming from between his teeth and hitting the zoologist in the cheek.

Richter, however, continued to belt out his own argument, unabashed, "I worked without pay for two months on this project! This is the biggest find of a lifetime! Of all our lifetimes! This is not an opportunity that is about to be laid to waste by your arrogant, hot-headed-"

"-So it's all about you and the money, huh!?" Indiana's voice had nearly risen to a scream. He tensed his arms to shove the other man backwards.

That was when Marcus Brody stepped in. Placing a hand on both of their shoulders, he raised his voice high enough to overwrite both sides of the argument, "Please, sirs! Please! Quiet down, quiet down!"

Indiana yielded to the grip of Marcus, stepping back, but still belted out another retort, "She's my find, my choice!"

"She's nobody's property, gentlemen!" Marcus shouted, waving his hands in a downwards motion, "Listen! Your goals might be more compatible than you think!"

Richter raised his nose, placing his hands on his hips as he watched Indiana, who was still red in the face and panting heavily. Anna, meanwhile, continue to chew on the rubbery lining around the dictaphone receiver as she watched the three men.

"Thank you!" said Marcus with an exasperated sigh, "Listen, Indy never said he wanted this discovery to be kept secret forever! He simply said she deserves a relatively normal childhood, and that revealing our findings now would ruin that chance. Johan, you must admit that studying anything in captivity pollutes any data collected. A lion who lived its life in a zoo acts much differently than if it were to be studied in a savannah pride."

"Any data we collect will be polluted, Brody," Richter folded his arms, "We have very little data about her natural habitat."

"What I am attempting to say is that much of her neurological and psychological development will be effected greatly by outside forces, in or out of captivity," Marcus reasoned, holding up a placating hand, "There would be two dimensions to your study: the physiological and the psychological. The results of the physiological changes should be concrete, while the psychological changes would be polluted no matter what path we went down," a side-eye to Indiana, "I am sure Mr Jones would be more than happy to allow you to continue your studies of Anna while she is in his care."

"I'm not going to let him publish anything about her," Indiana scowled.

Before Johan could retort, Marcus once again interjected, "Now, now, we can't talk in definitives here. There will have to be a day eventually when the research must be published. Dr. Richter has done work, for free, in studying her. We should not take that away from him."

Richter crossed his arms. Indiana kept a hard look aimed at him.

With a deep breath, Marcus continued, "If we assume we are to treat her like a human child, for the sake of simplicity, then I believe it would be fair that once she grows to the age of adulthood, that would be the time to put out any research."

"I'm no fool. The longer she stays with Mr Jones, the more chances someone else writes about her," Richter finally spoke, clenching his hands around his arms and wrinkling his suit jacket sleeves.

"If that happens, you will have plenty of research to publish a fully realized report. I am sure we will all work very, very hard to ensure you are credited as the first researcher of this creature," Marcus Brody gave a look towards Indiana, who responded with a reluctant nod, "Meanwhile, we can sent hunters to Panama to search for more of her species. If any more turn up, she will no longer be the only known specimen of her species. Perhaps she can even be returned to her natural habitat."

"I'm... not sure," said Richter as his demeanor slowly dissolved, becoming less angry and more nervous. Indiana took a deep, satisfied breath as he got the rush of winning an argument.

"Johan, you're a good man. This is the right thing to do. I can give you my word that your stake in this will be protected," Marcus promised, taking off his hat as well to hold in front of him.

Richter's lips twitched, "I would require that to be a legal contract, in writing."

"I'm sure that could be arranged. Indy?" Marcus turned towards the man in question.

"I keep her, you keep all this quiet, and you come to take notes when I say so," Indiana bargained.

"If other research comes out, I have the right to publish my findings on the spot," Richter shot back, "And I vill need to examine her at least every two months."

Indiana Jones nodded slowly, "...Deal."

Johan Richter took a deep, long breath through his nose. Reaching into his coat pocket, he donned his glasses once again, "...I suppose I will need to be finding an excuse for my extended absence now. I hope your relationship with her is as fruitful as you expect it to be."

With that, the German gave one final look towards Anna, before walking over to a nearby table, where his bag had laid unpacked throughout their visit. Slowly, he began to re-pack his notes and instruments, all while Anna continued to attempt to swallow the receiver of his dictaphone.

Marcus Brody, hands in his coat pockets, gave a stern look towards Indiana. The younger man raised an eyebrow in confusion. In response, Marcus gave an indicative nod towards Johan, then gave another stern glare at Indy.

Indiana replaced his hat, before reluctantly walking over, clasping his hands behind him. With a slight cough, he attracted the zoologist's attention, then said, "Uh, hey... I uh-" he suppressed the urge to heave a huge sigh as he managed the dreaded word: "...Sorry."

Richter gave him an unimpressed look as he looked over his shoulder at Indy, palms on the table next to his half-packed briefcase.

Indiana scratched the back of his head, "You uh... you trusted me, by letting me have this. I respect that, and I'm sorry for treating you poorly," he said, barely managing to sound genuine as his gut squirmed with harsh opinions and pride, "Listen, if we're going to be seeing each other a bunch of times a year, we shouldn't be strangers. So..." Indiana felt the pressure within him reach a breaking point, and he let out a hiss of breath and broke eye contact. From the corner of his eye, he could still see Richter staring at him, unimpressed.

"...Listen," Indiana said, before immediately questioning the words that were about to come out of his mouth. Shutting his mouth again and letting his brain reprocess his statement into a more palatable form, he lead into it with a stilted, dry chuckle, "Hey, uh, I got a real bad impression of your country when I was in the War, you know? And uh, maybe I misjudged you because of that."

"I could tell," Johan said evenly, "Herr Jones, do not concern yourself with me for now. Concern yourself with yourself and your new child, there will be no more bad blood from me, ja?" he offered his hand.

Indiana let out a relieved sigh, before reaching and taking the hand, "Yeah. Sorry again."

Marcus Brody walked past Indiana, hands still in his coat pockets, to address the zoologist as the latter finished his repacking, "I'll keep in touch, Doctor. I'll also get somebody to draft up that contract for you to take a look at, if you'll mail me your particulars."

Johan nodded, shutting the clasps on his briefcase before giving a polite nod towards the two other men, "Good day," he simply said, before turning and leaving, the exit door briefly revealing the sunny Summer afternoon outside before shutting behind him.

Anna looked around the room in a state of cluelessness at the vastly important exchange that had just taken place around her. For a moment, they stood in silence, both looking at her as tension diffused and hackles lowered.

"Do you think I'd be able to get the paperwork done to make all this legal?" Indiana eventually asked.

Marcus Brody shook his head, "Not unless the President personally owed you money," said he while giving a chuckle.

"Anna Jones," Indiana turned that over in his mind, "...That kinda name needs a middle name."

"Your mother's middle name was Mary, yes?" Marcus half-questioned, half-suggested.

Indiana gave a derisive snort, "Anna Mary Jones, Junior? That- I don't- you know how much I don't like being a junior."

"True enough," Marcus chuckled, "Well, unfortunately, I'm not sure what else to suggest. Not exactly a wealth of women in your life to name her after?"

Indiana's mind immediately went through the wealth of women he'd met and been separated from throughout the years. There were enough that he'd forgotten most of their names, none of them felt special enough to really fit what was going to be his own adoptive daughter. Then, one particular name bubbled up to the forefront of his mind.

"Katie," Indiana blurted out, fidgeting for a moment, before firming up and repeating, "Katie. Anna Katie Jones."

"As fine a name as any, though..." Marcus's brow crinkled, "Where'd you get it from?"

"From the man who made me promise to keep her," Indiana said, reaching out to take Anna into his arms, "Marcus, you said if I came back with the clock you'd give me dinner? I might've not found the clock, but I still found some sorta treasure..."

"It was a compass, Indy. A compass," Marcus sighed, before reaching out his hand and gesturing towards the door, "Lead the way, Indiana."

A test subject and a college student had entered the room. A father and a daughter had exited. Perhaps no law said they were family, but for now, an unspoken bond as Anna fell asleep on her father's shoulder was all that needed to speak for their relationship as a family.

7: Take Flight, 1920-1921

The snow was melting outside as Indiana unlocked the door to his apartment. The hinges protested as he pushed open the door, shoving the walker with Anna sitting in it through as he sidled in after it. Under his arm, a bundle of books was kept together with twine - several textbooks bought in advance for his third year of bachelor's studies. Hanging off of the handle of the walker itself, a bag full of the week's shopping also accompanied them.

Thanks to his handful of experience in restaurants and solid year's work, he'd received a promotion - and a bonus - just in time to spend it all on books and groceries. Though, amongst the items he did manage to find this nice ring puzzle for Anna to play around with. He'd been told that this was a good time to start to involve his daughter in a few more complicated toys.

Pushing the walker, with Anna in it, to the opposite side of the room, Indiana threw his bundle of books towards his bed then turned towards the bathroom door. Anna made noises from her seat, struggling against the small harness that kept her from jumping out, and Indiana shouted behind him, "I'll be with you in a second, hun."

Flipping on the single lightbulb in the bathroom, Indiana leaned over the sink and twisted the faucet. Cool water gushed out, and he wiped it over his face and dirtied hands. He scratched his chin a bit as he examined himself in the mirror. He was starting to grow a bit of stubble, and while he'd initially let it grow out of the eternally busy cycle his life was locked into, he kinda liked how it looked. It made him look... rugged...

Something naggled in the back part of his brain. A passive sense of danger he felt so rarely these days, so long between adventure-

It was too quiet. Anna's noises were nowhere to be found. Wind blew in from the street outside, through the open window.

Bolting back out the door, Indiana snapped his vision towards the back of his apartment. Sure enough, he'd left the window wide open. Fortunately enough no skilled climbers had decided to rob his place while he was gone, but the much more concerning sight was the object right next to it: the walker. The harness had been unbuckled, and the occupant was completely gone, the windowsill only a foot or so above it.

Indiana's eyes darted around the rest of his room. Every other surface was empty, and his heart dropped into his boots. Sprinting across the room, he kicked the walker out of the way, the wooden frame clattering against the wall nearby. Sticking his head through the window, knocking off his fedora as he did so, he screamed towards the street below, "ANNA! ANNA! Dear god!"

Down below, pedestrians made their way past on the sidewalk, some glancing up in response to Indiana's desperate cries. Sure, there was no... bloody smear, or anything, but there really wasn't any other explanation in his mind for what had just happened. For the first time in a long time, tears welled up in his eyes as he collapsed against the windowsill, raking his fingers up into his hair as his breath caught in his throat.

Perhaps a year ago, he'd spit and curse his luck for another squandered treasure. However, this wasn't like accidentally dropping a priceless idol into a river, or... or even like the times he lost some of his friends in the Somme. This was something even worse. It had been solely his responsibility to be her guardian, and he let a lapse in his judgement, a stupid open window, get the better of him. He'd always depended on his luck to make up for his sometimes stark lack of forethought. He'd always known that his luck would run out someday, but he'd always betted on it being his own life on the line when he did so, not someone else's... not his own daughter's...

Something brushed up against the back of his right shoulder.

Indiana turned around. In front of him, instilling in him both equal measures of immense relief and amazement, was Anna... hovering in midair. Her tiny wings, still fluffy with down, fluttered rapidly; almost as quickly as Indiana might expect from an insect or hummingbird. In her muzzle, she held his fedora, clenched between her teeth. The hat was large enough that it drooped down all the way in front of her, covering her body almost entirely. It was a wonder in and of itself how she had managed to lift it up.

"You can fly!?" Indiana shouted, slamming the window closed behind him as he turned fully to face her, "Those wings work!?"

At the shock of him shouting and the window slamming shut, Anna promptly stopped flying. Falling to the floor, she bounced slightly off the ground, the hat falling out of her mouth and to her father's feet. As a result of the pain, Anna instantly cringed, teared up, and began to wail loudly. With a grateful sigh, Indiana crouched and picked Anna up, rocking her in his arms as he rubbed his hand over her pelt, smoothing over the parts no doubt bruised by the fall.

He had to wire Johan about this.

In a familiar laboratory in the University of Chicago, three men stood around a bench around a small gold-colored foal. She looked around curiously as Johan carefully re-measured her wingspan with a measuring tape.

"And you say you saw it with your own eyes?" Richter hummed as he closed the tape.

Indiana nodded, hands on his hips, "Hovering right in front of me, at around shoulder height. Had my hat in her mouth and everything."

Johan kneeled to be on eye level with Anna, adjusting his glasses as he did so. Her eyes followed him, and he gave a smile and a small wave, "Guten tag, little miss. Growing big and strong, I see. Mr. Jones is treating you well, ja?"

"Johnes!" Anna exclaimed, sticking her forehooves in the air.

Thrusting his arms into the air as well, Johan mimicked Anna's gesture, "Ja! Jones indeed!"

Marcus chuckled from beside Indiana, "The old kraut's taken a liking to her," Indiana gave a smile and a nod, and Marcus continued, "Not seeing much flying yet. You sure it wasn't some sort of... freak occurrence?"

Indiana reached into his pocket, bringing out a bright red lollipop and watching Johan play with Anna, "No. There's been a bunch of situations where she's gotten into impossible places. Being able to fly, at least for short hops, makes a lot of sense."

Stepping forward, Indiana broke up Anna and the doctor's interaction, "Hey, Anna. I got something for you, but you gotta show Johan here how you can use your wings, alright?" Indiana proffered the lollipop, holding it out in front of Anna. Her eyes tore from Johan's and immediately began to gleam, and she leaned forward to wiggle a forehoof towards the candy.

Before she could grab it, Indiana moved his arm, holding it a few feet over her instead. Anna's response to this was to reach up, haunches firmly on the ground, groping with her forelegs towards the unreachable candy. When she could not, in fact, reach it from where she was, she broke down crying inconsolably, staring at Indiana with a betrayed look on her face.

Marcus probed his ear with a finger as the piercing screech filled the room, no doubt travelling out into the hallway beyond them. Johan looked between Indiana and Anna curiously, idly reaching for the pen in his pocket as he did so. Finally, Anna stopped bawling for just long enough to begin to beat her wings. They turned into a golden blur, beating possibly several times in a second.

Marcus and Johan gasped in unison as, surely enough, Anna lifted off of the ground, travelling skywards towards the lolly. Eventually, once she ascended a foot or so off the ground, Indiana moved the candy to place it in her hooves. At once, the crying stopped and Anna stuck the rounded end of the lollipop in her mouth and began to suck, hovering in place while concentrated sheerly on the sugary treat in her hooves.

"...Fascinating," Johan whispered. Standing, Johan placed a hand palm-up beneath her as she hovered, "...There is a slight breeze. Has to be around... maybe 4 miles per hour? How does she generate that lift with such small wings? She must weigh... what, around 19 pounds? She is already heavier than an eagle... but has so little wingspan..."

"What's the verdict, doc?" Indiana asked, watching passively as Anna sucked down on the lollipop, ready to pluck it from her lips if she sucked it too far into her mouth.

"By all means what she's doing is physically impossible. Physically both in terms of... bodily capability, and in terms of the laws of physics. She has a wing load of around... 20 pounds on at most... a square foot of wing? Depending how heavy she grows up to be..." Johan rubbed the bridge of his nose, leaning back onto a nearby countertop, "I really don't have an explanation for you."

"Perhaps it's due to some... physical process we are unaware of?" Marcus asked, watching as she continued to hover, almost effortlessly, a few feet off the table.

"Perhaps," Johan nodded, before looking back towards her and saying, "I will... continue to collect data. For now, I would take extra care, Mr Jones, about ensuring she doesn't harm herself. I would smooth down sharp edges on elevated surfaces and keep your windows closed."

"Not a lot of places she can fly in my apartment," Indiana folded his arms, humming, "Can't just let her outside. What if she flies out of sight? I can't exactly follow her."

"I imagine her biological parents would be able to," Johan sighed, placing his hands in his pockets, "I am sure you know this well enough, Mr Jones, but- your current living situation... it is..."

"I know, I know," said Indiana with a grunt, "I can't exactly do anything about it, can I?"

"It is becoming increasingly irresponsible to attempt to raise her in such a confined area," concluded Johan, perhaps too sternly.

Indiana, inflamed by the implication, immediately retorted, "Hey! I'm doing my best."

Johan raised his nose, but didn't press farther. Fortunately, he was in far better control of his emotions than the young college student. There was little more time in their visitation, though, as soon Indiana needed to pick Anna up and journey outside to catch the next tram. Yet, as Johan and Marcus were left alone in the laboratory, the former failed to immediately go about packing his instruments.

"That boy needs an intervention," Marcus sighed wearily, "He's going to drive himself up the wall in that place. He barely makes rent along with his loan payments... I've offered more financial assistance, but he's refused it."

"He needs a house. A real house," Johan agreed, "Something with a lawn. Perhaps the working class family may make do with an apartment to rear their children, but this is a special case. I cannot imagine an enclosed space would be good for the development of something so clearly designed to run... and fly around."

Marcus Brody grimaced, "It's not just Anna that will suffer from his living arrangements, its Indy as well."

"His biggest mistake, I speculate, is continuing his education. He could keep up with his fiscal troubles "

"It's always been his dream to be an archaeologist," Marcus dismissed, "It would be cruel to take that away from him. Besides, if he completes his education he may well secure a well-paying job. If he lands a job teaching, he could be making somewhere near two thousand dollars a year."

Johan nodded slowly, "...Then? What is to be done?"

"We should buy him a house," Marcus said firmly.

Richter frowned, "I am not a wealthy man, Dr Brody-"

"I would be able to foot the bill. I've got no family to support with my savings, Indy practically is my only family at this point," Marcus chuckled, before trailing off and rubbing a cheek with a thumb. Eventually, he added, "...The greatest problem, though, would be him accepting it. I fear it would wound his pride."

"Tell him he can pay you back," Johan gave a slight smile, "But only tell him after all the paperwork is signed and you give him the keys."

Indiana Jones wrangled Anna as she tried her best to fly out of his arms and at the windshield of Marcus Brody's car. The cabin was filled with molted feathers as she fluttered her wings, her father restraining her by holding onto her hind legs. Forehead slicked with sweat from a busy lunch shift at Colosimo's, Indiana gave a confused look out the side window as they turned onto a new street.

Anna began to cry at the terrible treatment of her father, not allowing her to bash her head in against the windshield. Despite this, Indiana looked over to Marcus and asked, "Where the hell are we going?"

"I want to show you a new property I just bought," Marcus, still dressed in his formal office wear, said with a cheeky grin on his face, "Say, Indy, when did you say Anna's birthday was?"

Indiana brow furrowed at the strange question. It wasn't like Marcus to flaunt his wealth, "Uhhh... the 28th of January. That's when I found her," he eventually said.

After several repeat visits, Johan had managed to guesstimate that Anna was about 4-6 months old when she was first found in the ruins in Panama. Though this would place her 'real' birthday somewhere between July and September, Indiana had personally decided that it was better to make her birthday the 28th. Relatedly, it was currently the 27th of January.

"Bah! Missed it by one day," Marcus snapped a finger in mock frustration, "Ah well. Indy, I wanted to talk with you about my relationship to Anna."

The child in question had ceased attempting to fly and instead sat on her father's lap, crying. Though, Indiana had learned that babies were just as capable of deception as adults. Sometimes, they cried just to try and get their way, probably thinking they were very clever. Yet, there was a clear difference between how she cried earnestly and how she cried dishonestly; this case definitely fell under the latter.

Ignoring Anna, Indy kept his gaze on Marcus, "What about it?"

"Well, Indy, I think we've grown to rather be like family over the last few years," the older man intoned as they pulled down another street, this one lined with trees and white picket fences, "I consider you almost like a son to me. While your father should have his place as Anna's grandfather, I believe perhaps I should take a place as Anna's uncle?"

"...Sure?" Indiana raised an eyebrow, the car suddenly slowing and pulling to the left curb. He looked around again, "...Marcus, what's all this about?"

"Come, I'll show you!" Marcus said, switching off the engine and pulling the handbrake. Fishing out a pair of keys from his coat pocket, he exited the car and stepped onto the sidewalk.

Indiana, utterly confused, stared for a few moments. Eventually, Marcus gestured for him to come out, and he complied. Rounding the hood, Anna still in his arms and no longer wasting the energy on fake-crying, all three of them came to face a house standing right next to where the car was parked. A number on the mailbox said '34' and a lawn extended from the rear of the home.

They stood for a moment, before Indiana was suddenly urged on again by Marcus, "Come on, let's look inside!" he said.

"O-kay?" Indiana lowered his eyebrows as Marcus walked briskly to the front door and inserted the keys inside, unlocking it.

The house was two stories, to save space as it fit between the dense spacing of the inner-city neighborhood that surrounded. They entered into an empty room that was clearly meant to be a lounge. Beyond it sat a dining room, which connected to a kitchen. In the kitchen, a door lead to the back yard, and a staircase lead to the second floor. Up said staircase were two bedrooms, one master bedroom and one smaller one. There was also a door leading into a bathroom, equipped with a sink, bath, and shower.

"It's nice. Could use some furniture, but it's nice," Indiana said as their tour concluded, "What're you going to use it for?" he asked as he turned around.

Behind him, Marcus held out the house keys towards Indiana, "I've got the papers for you to sign, it can all already be in your name," he said, cheeky grin still on his face, "Pay me back if it helps your pride, Indy, but take it as a gift from me to you and Anna. You know how much you both need this."

Indiana's face morphed into a scowl, "You haven't already paid for it, have you?"

Marcus's hand reached out, opened one of Indiana's free hands, and shoved the keys inside, "Yes," he said as he clasped Indiana's hand shut, "A few years ago, I promised your father that I would make sure you didn't get hurt - even though I know you aren't on the best of terms personally, he still cares about your wellbeing," a pause, "...Staying where you are is slowly killing you, and we both know that you aren't moving any time soon without help. You can pay me back, after you have a stable income. I don't want to hear anything about interest rates or payments until then."

"...Thanks, Marcus... I really owe you," Indiana said, a shot of spice running through his sinuses as his eyes began to water, "I'll get you back some day, I promise."

"Don't worry about all that right now," Marcus dismissed, waving a hand, "Get that doctorate you dreamed of. Grab a tenure, get a stable paycheck, then I'm sure you'll be able to afford several houses!"

Indiana, in an attempt to distract himself from his own emotional state, turned Anna around in his grip. Facing her towards Marcus, he said in his soft, baby-talk voice, "Look, Anna, Uncle Marcus bought us a house!"

Anna reached out her hooves towards Marcus, squirming and fluttering her wings.

"Want to hold her?" he offered as the child struggled to escape his grasp.

Marcus cautiously complied, reaching out to hold the heavy equine child in an admittedly very awkward way. This time, Anna did not immediately begin crying.

She only did so after a few seconds of stunned silence. It was progress.

Dear Richard,

My apologies for not including your full name, as I do not think I ever got your full name during our short time together. I also apologize for neglecting to write to you, as the past year has been exceedingly busy for me. I have been juggling college studies, a job, and a daughter, leaving me in a constant cycle of exhaustion. Despite all of this, I find it a necessity to let you know what has been happening, and offer my sincerest thanks.

A zoologist from Pennsylvania came to study Anna in a controlled environment. The results of his study concluded that she was some form of truly intelligent life, as in the same amount of intelligence as a human. I kept my promise to you, and I've taken her in as my own despite the immense stress she admittedly puts on me. The temptation to allow the scientists to requisition her into care of the federal government was high, as I believed I was totally unfit to be a father.

Perhaps I was right about that lack of fitness. My fiscal struggles have been many, and I would likely be homeless without being bailed out multiple times by my close friends. I now stand with my pride wounded, but at least I do stand in a stable home that might be capable of raising Anna right. Now that I think about it, you were the first in the line of friends that helped me stand when I didn't think I could. I might've just tossed her overboard or muzzled her if it weren't for you helping to take care of her aboard the Safe Travels.

You should also know that Anna's middle name is Katie.

I know the times you can respond to letters are few and far between, considering your mobile work requirements. However, I would enjoy it if we could arrange some time for us to meet in person again. Perhaps when you next stop off at New York?

Regards, Indiana Jones.

Over the first semester of Indiana's final bachelor year, 35 Rosewood Avenue became more than just an empty shell. While not a lot of furniture could be afforded, a couch came to reside in the living room, beds were moved into the rooms upstairs, and a study desk was sidled up next to one of the windows looking towards the street in the master bedroom.

With the addition of a new bedroom, Anna got her own place to sleep. She was beginning to talk in phrases, and was more than capable of shouting out to her father now when something was needed. Following recommendations from books on parenting, as well as the more tailored advice of Dr. Richter, she was also finally moved out of the crib and into a toddler-sized bed.

Another piece of advice from the doctor that Indy followed was blunting elevated surfaces. Taking a piece of sandpaper, Indiana viciously attacked many of the edges of cabinets, pantries, and even light fixtures with dangerous, pointed edges. As Anna continued to fly, many times Indiana would hear a crash, a thump, then a loud, genuine cry.

He also quickly learned to put nothing fragile on high shelves as well.

A problem arose, however, in the form of care for Anna when he wasn't at home. He had relied heavily on Ms - now Mrs - Helen Shallow, as she had become comfortable with the idea of taking care of an extremely odd child. However, now the woman was married and expecting a child, and with those life changes her babysitting hours were understandably cut to near-zero.

Through the flow of casual conversation, Indiana mentioned his struggles with finding a babysitter to his teacher. Abner Ravenwood was quick to refer his own daughter for the task, the 12 year old Marion Ravenwood looking for a summer job.

Indiana, low on people who would work standard wage to take care of his special daughter who were also close enough to his inner circle to trust with a secret, readily accepted.

Marion Ravenwood stepped out of her father's car, adjusting her skirt and looking nervously around. Ahead of her, a small two-storey house was settled in between a large, expansive row of town homes extending down the street. The wind rustled through birch trees planted along the sidewalk, where polite American citizenry walked towards tram stations or walked their dogs.

She took one look back through the passenger side window towards her father, who simply gave her a reassuring smile. It was far from her first time being given responsibility, not having a mother around to retrieve her from school or make her dinner when her father was late. Yet, it was the first time that she was doing something as grown-up as try and make money for herself, even if it was just a casual summer job.

Swallowing her nervousness and adjusting the straps of her school bag - loaded with everything she believed she needed for the day ahead - she stalked up towards the front steps of the home. Raising her hand, she rapped her knuckles against the front door.

A young man, dressed in a suit and tie, opened the door shortly afterwards. A satchel was around his waist, a fedora slapped onto his head, a rugged, shadowy beard on his jaw, and a scar sat just beneath his lower lip. Somehow, he reminded her of her math teacher.

He gave her an awkward smile, "You, uh, must be Dr Ravenwood's daughter?"

"Marion!" she greeted, extending a hand, "You must be Indiana Jones."

Indiana took the hand and shook it, "Yeah. Come in, I've gotta tell you a few things then your dad's gonna take me back to college."

Marion stepped into a sparsely decorated and furnished lounge. Ragged, stained toys were strewn across the floor, leading out from a chest in a corner. A couch sat next to a coffee table, which someone had taken sandpaper to to blunt the edges. A bookshelf sat nearby, sloppily filled with children's books. A pillow had been glued to the top, and nails had been driven through its backboard and into the wall. Behind the lounge laid a dining room and a kitchen, all with similarly paranoid levels of safety precautions.

The intrigued look on Marion's face turned to fright as the sound of rapid wingbeats signalled the coming of a gold-colored blur. Some great creature shot around a corner and smashed straight into Marion's face, toppling her over as she screamed. An extra thick layer of carpet cushioned her fall, though the feeling of her brain smashing against the back and front of her skull pounded pain through her head.

As she regained her senses, her eyes focused on two, eerily large magenta irises staring back at her. Sitting on her chest was something almost like a horse, though it had a golden pelt, a patterned mane of black and grey, a beige shirt, and a diaper covering its behind.

"Hey Anna," Indiana, who stood over Marion without a single hint of compassion, said in a soft voice, "This is Marion. She's your new sitter."

"Maria," the creature spoke in a voice eerily similar to a toddler's.

"Marion," Indiana repeated.

'Anna' let out another eerily human-like giggle, before acting out some sort of scene with her forehooves, "Marion go boom!"

"Yes, Marion fell down. Don't fly into people, Anna, it's rude," Indiana scolded half-heartedly, an amused grin growing on his face as he watched Marion's increasingly frantic expression.

"Why is it talking!?" Marion blurted, raising a hand and probing for a way to gently brush the fuzzy toddler off of her.

"She does that," Indiana said, picking up Anna by the arms and placing her back down on the floor, "Listen, just make sure she doesn't escape the house while I'm gone. Heat up lunch in the pan at around eleven-thirty and feed her the full bowl. I've already portioned it all out. Make sure she eats it all."

"Wh-What!?" Marion gasped, getting up and brushing herself off in a nervous fit, "This is just normal to you?"

Indiana shrugged, "Yeah. She's just like a normal girl, just with a weird exterior. You'll get to know her."

She gave him another distressed look. A temptation rose in her stomach to dash out the door and back to her father to demand she be allowed to go back home.

"Listen. Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. Don't go in the master bedroom, otherwise just do what you want," Indiana said, beginning to open the door to leave, much to Marion's dread. He paused, though, and looked back at her as he was halfway out the door. Jabbing a finger at her, he said, "And don't open any windows! I'm afraid she'll fly out of the house!"

Marion rocked forward on her heels to try and escape, yet the strange infant was sitting on the floor in front of her, looking at her 'father' as he exited. Unable to overcome her fear of the uncannily toddler-like animal, she hesitated long enough that the door was closed and locked by the time she looked back up.

Of course, her father leaving without her immediately caused Anna to grow upset. Cries filled the air as she galloped into, and smashed clumsily into the door. Those deep, rose-colored eyes immediately turned upwards towards Marion, welt up with tears at both the abandonment and the pain of running into the door.

Marion swallowed the lump in her throat, "Just think of the stuff you're gonna buy at the end of the summer, Marion, just think of the ice cream..."

She was going to be the talk of the Herston Girl's School, with a new bike and pocket change to take all her friends out for treats. She'd been braver before, walking home alone and hiding that one time robbers broke into their home. She was always being called mature for her age. Surely some strange baby-horse-rat-beast was nothing she couldn't handle.

Marion looked up the side of the tall, majestic tree, at the gold-colored dot all the way on the top branch, where its shirt had gotten caught. Anna fluttered her wings helplessly, trying to disentangle herself from the leaves of the tree, yet was left crying and screaming in fear as she found herself completely trapped.

She had opened the window after an explosive diaper had stinked up the house. As long as Anna was in her sight it didn't matter, after all. Yet, after carrying the toddler back down to the lounge and going to the kitchen to heat up the mash, she'd forgotten all about it. The next thing she knew, Anna had escaped the house through the window, flown straight into the neighbor's yard, and gotten stuck in a tree.

Thankfully, the neighbors were not at home, or else she might be attempting to explain to the fire brigade why an animal was stuck in a tree and crying like an abandoned baby. Instead, she had scaled the fence, ran to the base of the tree, and stared upwards to its peak for a solid three minutes attempting to formulate a plan.

Marion couldn't call for help. If Mr Jones found out his 'daughter' had gotten away from her and gotten hurt, she'd have hell to pay - both to Mr Jones and to her father. She gulped - she'd climbed plenty of trees before, being rather tomboyish, but this time she'd been dressed to impress. That meant a long skirt, which was definitely not something to climb in.

With very little other choice, she grabbed a nearby ladder from the neighbor's shed, slid it over to the base of the tree, and kicked off her shoes and socks. Climbing the ladder put her in reach of some of the lower boughs, which she used to begin her ascent . Twigs constantly scraped and caught against the cloth of her skirt, yet she pressed on even as the sound of ripping and tearing came from below her.

Panting and sweating, Marion refused to look down as she kept her eyes on the prize and continued to climb. A branch bent and snapped underfoot, nearly leaving her to plummet, yet she held on with her arms onto a more sturdy branch and re-footed herself elsewhere. Finally, with tied-back hair in tatters, leaves caught in all sorts of places, heart pounding, and covered in sweat, Marion found herself in reach of Anna.

The poor child had tuckered itself out, wings hung limp from its sides as it teetered precariously on the edge of a branch. Tears stained its cheeks as it spun in place slowly, the sturdy cloth her custom-made shirt was made out of keeping her airborne as it was caught in a claw-like gnarl of wood. Even if she got free, Marion doubted it would have the energy to land safely below.

"Marion!" Anna cried.

Sucking in a deep breath, Marion extended her arm as far as it would go towards Anna, yet came just short. Anna let out another pitiful cry, wiggling its little hooves out towards the girl as Marion attempted to regain her strength. With another, braver push, she reached out towards Anna, fingernails barely brushing the foal's shirt before she was forced to retract again.

Marion looked down towards her footing, attempting to find a better place to climb to in order to give her the few more inches required to rescue Anna. A young, but living branch showed some promise. She probed it with her right foot, finding it bendy and stretchy but sturdy enough to put her weight on. Fear wracked her body as she caught a glance at the ground, three stories below, the feeling amped as she felt the branch bend under her weight.

Looking up, summoning her bravery, and thrusting her arm out, she reached for Anna. Her palm grasped around the foal's midsection, and she tugged with urgency to get the child's cloth un-snared. With a loud tear, the back of Anna's shirt ripped open, the cloth left behind on the tree. At the same time, the branch snapped, leaving her with just her left foot and left arm to grip onto the tree.

A muscle pulled in her leg as she screamed with fright, slamming Anna against her chest in a desperate pull to keep her prize from falling to its death. Panting heavily, she managed to withdraw her right foot back onto the stable branch, just before her left foot slipped and doomed her to fall.

For a moment, Marion stood on the branch, steadied with her left hand and her right hand tucking Anna against her chest, and panted with exhaustion and fright. She couldn't help but look down and watch the broken branch fall down to the lawn below, hitting the ground with a distant rustle.

Her climb down was made much, much more difficult with the lack of a right hand - which was used to clamp the squirming, crying toddler to her chest. She realized she was leaving behind bloody footprints on parts of the tree, her bare feet getting terribly scratched up by the bark and branches. The adrenaline high running through her system was more than enough for her to ignore the pain, and soon she was level with the second floor of the neighbor's home.

Just a few more branches down, and Marion carefully lowered herself onto the ladder. Back on an apparatus made for climbing, she gladly scaled the last few steps back to the ground. With a gasp, she leaned back onto the tall, picket fence that made up the back of the yard.

In her arms, Anna looked up at Marion with a pained, tired expression. Making eye contact, Marion put on her best grown-up voice, "That... was a very naughty thing to do," she panted.

Later, Marion wiped the last remnants of a late lunch off of Anna's muzzle. The mash, having been abandoned on the stove after Marion ran, panicked out the back door to rescue the child, had promptly overcooked, burned to ash, and then become baked onto the pan. Fortunately, the gas canister for the stove was already nearly depleted, or else her lack of attendance may well have caused the house to catch on fire.

With very little else to do, Marion had improvised a lunch out of cold, mashed apples, served at around the same portion size as the bowl that had been left for her. Anna, exhausted from her illicit excursion out to the neighbor's tree, seemed to either like it or lack the energy to fuss.

Standing up and taking the dishes to the sink, limping from her bloodied feet and strained leg muscle, Marion did the dishes. She scoured the charcoal off of the frying pan, cleaned the plates, and washed the mortar and pestle. Terribly thirsty from her climb, she poured herself a cup of water as well and began to drink.

She wasn't sure what those protestors that rallied in the city streets were talking about. Water was just fine to drink, why would they need something like beer? From what her father had told her, the stuff was disgusting, anyway. 12 small, tin cups of water later, and Marion leaned back on the kitchen counter to take a moment to herself.

Anna had passed out on the high chair, snoring softly.

Marion's eyes examined the creature closely. As the day had marched on, she'd slowly gotten more and more used to the toddler's bizarre appearance. She thought talking, colorful animals were only a thing that existed in story-books. She certainly had no classmates that were taking animals, and even though Sarah claimed she had a best friend who was a squirrel, she'd never really believed her.

Shoot, none of her friends were going to believe her!

What was she going to tell them once they got back to school? That she spent the summer babysitting a Funny Animal? She'd be a laughing stock. They were in the 7th grade, now. They were too old to have imaginary talking animal friends! Now, when she flaunted her wealth, they'd just think her rich dad had given her spending money while she spent the summer being a wastrel.

Marion hung her head. She really should've just not listened to her father and gone around the neighborhood sticking up flyers... or something. Awh well, maybe she'd just have to lie and say she took care of a baby that none of her classmates knew about.

A few minutes later and Marion relocated Anna to her bedroom upstairs for a proper nap. An hour or so later of relaxing and resting, and soon Anna was awake again and fluttering around the lounge. After double-checking that every single window in the house was closed tightly, Marion sat down on the couch with her own book to keep an eye on Anna as she flew in lazy circles, touching down occasionally to play with the toys on the floor.

She particularly liked a ring puzzle, where rings had to be stacked from largest to smallest. She didn't stack the rings though, instead she took them off, threw them all over the place, chewed on them, and placed them around her neck and spun them around. Eventually, though, she seemed to grow tired of toys, and instead went to the bookshelf and retrieved a picture-book.

Predictably, Anna went to the only person in the house who was literate. Marion gave a slight smile, patting the cushion beside her and opening the picture book.

It was while she read from a long queue of books brought to her that the man of the house came home. With the jingle of keys and the disengagement of a lock, Indiana Jones stepped back into his abode to the sight of his babysitter and his daughter sitting peacefully on the couch, reading.

"Wow. You warmed up fast," Indiana commented, keeping the door open behind him as he reached into his pocket.

Marion looked up from the book as Anna abandoned her, flying over to her father for a hug, "She's really energetic."

"That's one word for it," Indiana said as he welcomed Anna with an arm, "Your dad's waiting for you in the car. Here, let me pay you your due..."

The man procured three gold coins. Three whole dollars! Marion's eyes lit up as she greedily snatched the change away, "Thanks, mister!"

Indiana gave a nod, "Have a good evening, kid. See you Wednesday."

"Bye, Mr Jones!" Marion waved, barely remembering to pick up her book and school bag before sprinting out the door with a wave.

Abner Ravenwood smiled as his daughter piled into the car next to him, "Looks like it went well?"

"Sure did!" Marion said enthusiastically, holding her money to the light with a wide grin on her face.

"You're a very mature young woman, Marion! Very brave and disciplined to undertake such a task at your age. You must have been raised well," Ravenwood said with a grin as he put the car in gear and left the curb. As he glanced towards his daughter - and particularly her clothes - his smile rapidly disappeared, "Good heavens, Marion! What on earth happened to your skirt?"

Marion looked down, wide-eyed. Giant, open cotton scars had been left by the branches of the tree. Swallowing, she looked between the coins and her father's shocked expression, "...Uh, Dad? How much does it cost to buy a new skirt?"

Author's Note

A bit of a collection of vignettes here.

Yes, Marion and Indy's age gap is canonically that wide. Funny how meeting under different contexts can change your views on someone, huh?

8: To Egypt, 1921

To Indiana Jones

Sorry I have to make this letter so short. I don't have a lot of writing material. It relieves me that you decided to keep Anna, and I am flattered by the name choice. I can understand how hard it must be for you right now, and I really admire the fact that you have decided to continue to pursue your education despite the hardships. You're a stronger man than I ever was, Skimpy.

As for meeting up, I will be in New York from the 15th of November to the 25th. The captain has special business in the city, so we're getting some shore leave up there. If it's in your schedule, perhaps you could find time to come see me for a day or two. Bring Anna along if so.

Regards, Richard Simons

The school bell rang.

"Thank you all for attending," Professor Ravenwood said from the front of the lecture hall as chairs scraped and students made for the exits, "For those of you who graduate this year, I wish you luck. As a final reminder, your final papers are due by the 21st! If you require any help, I will have my usual office hours until the 19th, when I depart for Egypt!"

Indiana picked up his textbooks one last time, loading them into his bag as he joined the line of students leaving the lecture hall. That day marked the last day of his classes in his Bachelor of Human Sciences. His grades so far had been promising, setting him up for a pass with distinction if he could keep up with his final assignments.

Just as he moved past the forward exit of the lecture hall, though, a voice called out to him, "Mr Jones!"

Turning, Indiana halted as he laid eyes on Abner Ravenwood, briefcase by his side as he walked from the classroom. Offering a smile, Indy tipped his fedora, "Good afternoon."

"Indiana, come to my office," the professor quickly ordered, cutting across the crowd and gesturing for him to follow.

Walking across campus grounds and into the office and administrative building, the two men climbed a set of stairs until they reached Ravenwood's office. It was far from the first time Indiana had visited the professor's working space, as he had sought help with his assignments several times before that day. Nothing particular had changed about the space, Indiana observed all of Ravenwood's normal possessions and materials in their usual places.

There was a desk in the middle of the room, a set of shaded windows to its left and the door to its right. A photograph of Abner, a woman, and a toddler Marion hung at a crooked angle on the wall. A clock ticked just above it. A shelf hung on one wall, lined with several academic books on biblical lore, reminding Indiana of his own father in a way. Above the bookshelf hung several relics - most of them recreations of African artefacts that Ravenwood had unearthed over the years. Next to them, a good many similarly recreated Egyptian relics hung, all as a status symbol of the archaeologist's storied career.

Ravenwood set himself down at his chair, gesturing for Indiana to sit down across from him. Taking off his fedora, the student gave his professor a queer look, "Am I in trouble or something, Professor?"

"Not at all," Ravenwood shook his head, "This year is your last in the bachelor program, yes?"

Indiana nodded.

"And you are set to graduate?" Ravenwood pressed.

"Well- yeah," Indiana shrugged.

"And you plan on striving for a master's degree?"

That made Indiana wince. Pained, he shrugged and said, "I- I dunno. I'd like to, but I've not gotten much luck with getting a promotion or a raise at work, I dunno if I could really support myself."

"Well! That's where I can help you!" Ravenwood gave a grin that puffed up his cheeks and caused his glasses to reflect the light from the nearby window, "You know of Sorbonne, yes?"

"Yeah..?" Indiana raised an eyebrow, "The one in Paris?"

"That one. They recently announced a scholarship program, which includes post-graduate programs in your field. Furthermore, a highly respected professor from their faculty is joining me on an expedition to Egypt this summer," Ravenwood clasped his hands on his desk, "Your grades were rough on the second year, likely because of your unexpected adoptive relationship, but you picked up enough to get some valuable As in this last year. Come along as my research assistant and put on a good performance, and I think we can pull some strings to get you into the scholarship programs. The move to Paris might be rough, but it'd be a prestigious education and you told me you know French already."

A smile bloomed on Indiana's face, and he eagerly asked, "Really? H-How long?"

"About two months, I think," Ravenwood hummed, "We'll definitely be back by the next school year, no doubt about it. I'm sorry, I can't exactly pay you, but we'd be covering any expenses you incur during travel and your stay."

Indiana's smile faded, mostly at the time, though very slightly at the idea of working for free, "...I don't suppose it'd be a good idea to bring Anna along?"

"I would be bringing Marion along," Ravenwood pointed out.

"Yeah but she's old enough to at least sit in a hotel room and take care of herself," Indiana grimaced, "Anna's still a toddler... at least mentally."

Ravenwood's moustache twitched, "And I suppose her taking care of Anna just wouldn't be practical."

"I assume this'll be a full time thing every day, pretty much. It's already a stretch to trust a little girl with her every other weekday," Indiana rapped his fingers against the top of the desk, before adding, "Not to mention we'll be remote for a while, right?"

"I'd want Marion in my sight at all times anyway," Ravenwood shook his head, "I'm sorry, Mr Jones, I didn't think about it."

Indiana's heart fell along with the professor's as his chance at higher education was, once again, quashed by the burdens of his child. Cracking a mirthless grin, he said, "Joys of single parenthood, yeah?"

"Quite," Ravenwood muttered, adjusting his glasses, "My apologies, once again, I fear I brought your hopes up just to let them fall."

Indiana sighed, getting up from his seat and heading for the door. Stopping and turning, he asked, "Sorry too, Professor. We'll keep in touch, even though we won't be seeing each other in class anymore?"

"Of course," Ravenwood looked away, a mournful frown settling on his face as he looked out towards the track and field, and away from his prize student.

Twenty minutes later, standing on the curbside by a tram station stop, Indiana watched the firey orange leaves blew by on the street from the tops of the shedding trees lined up by the side of the road. Other students crowded around him, waiting for the same trams, heading towards the city's midtown and towards their own families and lives.

Indiana's gaze fell atop the spires and elegant architecture of the University of Chicago. He was no big fan of tedious research and rote routine, but he had to admit - he was saddened to realize that his days in the UoC and academia would likely be coming to an end. There was not much use for a bachelor-level anthropology degree aside from perhaps work assisting greater, more educated people.

Briefly, he wondered what would have happened if he had given Anna away. Perhaps she'd still be happy, waited on every day by professional caretakers. He'd be happy as well, saving up money for his tuition and continuing his studies, either in Chicago or perhaps abroad. He could go with Ravenwood to Egypt, get to experience field work archaeology for the first time since he was a child. Maybe he'd have forgotten about his entire fiasco in Panama by now and moved on with his life. Marcus wouldn't have had to have burdened himself to bail him out, he wouldn't have had to have sacrificed all his sleep, time, and money...

It had all seemed so clear to him a year ago, that it was the right thing to do to keep Anna. Now, though, he remembered Marcus's words of warning about rash decision making. A growing fear stirred in his stomach, mixing with regret and a feeling of entrapment and travelling upwards in his heart. He felt utterly foolish.

A voice shouted at him from across the road as a middle-aged man in a recognizable grey suit and tie ran towards him across the UoC campus grounds, "Indy!" Marcus Brody shouted.

Indiana heaved a sigh, before raising an arm and giving a wave. The old historian continued to run, crossing the road to the tram station, out of breath.

"Indiana, you said you would come and celebrate with me for your last day?" he panted, the other students parting to make room for him at the tram station as he approached Indiana.

Internally cursing himself for his forgetfulness, Indiana scratched the back of his head and said, "Damn. Sorry."

Marcus gestured for Indiana to follow, "Come, now. I have a bottle of wine for you. Been saving it ever since before the Prohibition for a special occasion."

The time that Indiana found to drink had become increasingly scarce, what with Anna taking up his life between classes and work. Still, he'd found that people had found a great many ways to get around the Volstead Act, from becoming priests to just going to the doctor and complaining of a headache. Once or twice, he'd acquired whiskey in the same way, to sate the urge once in a while. Yet, he definitely drank less than before, as the actual price of acquiring alcohol in any form had soared so much to make simply drinking water attractive despite everything.

Thus, this was why when Marcus offered him a bottle of liquor for completely free, Indiana's spirits lifted a bit, "Thanks, Marcus... again."

Walking back across the road together, Indiana looked away from Marcus to see his tram arriving at the station. Marcus simply patted him on the shoulder, "I'll drive you home."

"A lot of people driving me home these days," Indiana muttered.

"You must have good friends, then!" Marcus laughed, "You know, it might not be too crazy for you to get your own automobile too. The new legislation is dropping the prices of cars across America."

"They're also made it illegal for you to cross the road without a crosswalk or a traffic cop," Indiana pointed out as he was lead towards the university's gated parking lot, where the wealthy members of faculty kept their expensive cars.

"At least it'll stop jays from stepping out in front of trucks," Marcus huffed, "Besides, Indy, cars are the future."

Indiana, of course, was no stranger to the automobile. He'd even managed to drive a racing vehicle once in his teenage years, before he went to Mexico, and met Edison. He kept silent, though, as they approached Marcus's Packard, thinking about the next subject to change to.

Climbing into the privacy of the cabin, Marcus Brody reached into the back seat and retrieved a bottle of wine, a red bow wrapped around its center, "Shall we share it at your place, Indy? I would offer you dinner, but you need to be home to relieve the sitter, yes?"

"Yeah," Indiana nodded. It was Ms Scraw, still, as Marion was in school until, assumedly, her father took her out to accompany him to Egypt. He idly wondered how the young girl was going to complete her final tests and get credit for he year.

Starting the engine, Marcus backed out of the parking lot and was let out onto the street by a security guard, "So, Indy, happy to have passed? Might not have been with honors, because of last year, but you still did very admirably under the circumstances!"

Indiana frowned, saying, "Yeah, well, I'll just make sure to explain real well why I got bad grades in '20 to my future employers. They'll think I'm a great character, raising a child without a mother and all."

Marcus remained silent for a moment, before giving an awkward chuckle, "E-Er, yes, well- I'm sure it'll be fine, Indy. Honor grades don't mean that much anyway, it's all about experience."

"Experience that I can't get," Indiana immediately retorted, "I even got an offer from Ravenwood to go with him to Egypt. Would've been perfect, since I'd get a shot at Sorbonne with reduced tuition. Can't, though. Would be a 24/7 job, and can't get Anna a sitter in Egypt, especially not for 12 hours a day, every day of the week."

The grin on Marcus's face, put there by his chuckle, faded quickly, "Oh. That's quite problematic, isn't it?" he eventually surmised.

"Not sure I can pay for post-grad studies anyway. Bank's not going to give me another loan. I could mortgage, but with all the debts I already have it's just not a good idea," Indiana said, "Maybe I should just give up on the doctorate."

"...How long would you be away, Indy?" Marcus quietly, hesitantly asked.

"Two months, at least."

"Oh. Well-" Marcus stuttered for a moment, "W-Well I could take care of Anna for that long."

Somehow, that idea had not occurred to Indiana, not for a single moment. He looked over to the driver's seat, "Don't you have work too?" he asked.

"I might have to travel to Washington around the beginning of December to talk with somebody from the National Museum, but I'd be able to take her along," Marcus shrugged, "Besides, it would be an opportunity to achieve something I missed out on. I never got to have a child with Elizabeth," a chuckle, this one more genuine, "I would get to enjoy the joys of parenthood without it being a lifelong burden!"

Indiana rolled his eyes at that one, but kept his smile, "You're an upright man, Marcus," a pause, "What's up with the National Museum?"

"I might be getting my job back with them," Marcus intoned, tilting his head slightly, "As you know, my appointment to the University of Chicago was temporary. I planned on moving back London as soon as my term here ended, but if Washington makes a good enough offer I might stay on in the US."

Indiana nodded along, having no real comment about the situation he moved on, "Say if I get accepted to Sorbonne, I'd need to buy someplace to live in Paris. Would you be alright with me selling the property here and moving?"

"More than okay, Indiana," Marcus quickly dismissed with a shake of his head, "You know French, yes?"

"Je parle Français," Indiana said without hesitation, "Je l'ai utilisé plusieurs fois pendant la Grande Guerre."

"Your father said you had a great skill for picking up languages when you were little," Marcus chuckled, "Say, you know Arabic too?"

"Known that one ever since I was in Egypt the first time," Indiana nodded, "Might be a bit rusty though."

"I'm not sure if Ravenwood can speak Arabic," he noted, "That may be a great help to him. Your proficiency in language will make you very attractive in the eyes of the faculty."

"You think? I'm not really up on ancient and extinct languages..."

"Hah. I know a few ancient languages myself, but I'd be useless trying to negotiate with a local for directions or asking natives about lore," Marcus Brody chuckled, "Brush up on French and flex your skills in front of the archaeologists. Earn that scholarship, and I'll make sure Anna is safe and sound when you return!"

The next weeks were filled with a crackdown on Indiana's final papers. He'd planned a graduation party with some of his friends he'd met in college, who were mostly study mates, but he had made preparations to cancel it and have his degree mailed to Marcus for safe keeping. Due to the timing of Ravenwood's departure, he had to turn in his essay before the due date, cutting off the few days extra that he would have had otherwise.

With all his final assignments turned in in a state of acceptability, Indiana packed his whip, hat, shirts, and jacket and made his way to the train station on the 17th. He wished to see Richard before joining Ravenwood on the ship that would take them to Africa, and the journey by rail to New York would take a day on its own.

Unfortunately, his old friend would just have to be disappointed in not being able to see Anna, as Indiana handed her off to Marcus at the platform.

Indiana rifled through his wallet as Marcus took Anna, who took a whole minute to begin crying. Taking out a few bills, he said, "Here. Take this to a tailor while I'm gone and get Anna a new set of clothes. The ones she's got are getting too small."

Marcus held up a hand and pushed the bills back, "Keep it and have a good meal on me in New York with your friend, Indy."

Indiana, having gotten over the humiliation of the older man's constant generosity, simply shrugged, "Don't let her burn the house down, Marcus!"

A whistle blew throughout the station as lines of passengers moved towards the entrances to the various cars. It was going to be a crowded trip, and Indy was in coach. A conductor's cry followed shortly after, announcing the final boarding call. Indiana tipped his fedora, before joining the line boarding the train, the doors of which closed shortly after as the engine began to chug.

Marcus bounced Anna a few times in an attempt to console Anna, who was once again trying to escape his grasp to fly to her father. His face eventually reappeared in one of the windows and he gave a wave, Anna redirecting her efforts to fly directly towards him.

Turning to walk back towards the exit, Marcus said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone: "Don't worry, poppit, he'll be back. You get to spend time with your, er- Uncle now!"

She continued to cry, extending a forehoof out in a hand-less reach towards the train as it pulled away from the station.

After an all-day trip by train and an overnight at a hotel, during which he kept waking up in the middle of the night over how quiet and Anna-less his room was, Indiana Jones found himself once again in New York Harbor. As a dot in the distance, he could see Liberty Island and the patina-colored, copper statue atop it. Freight steamers, passenger haulers, liners, and coastal boats moved in and out of what was one of the busiest harbors on the East Coast.

The previous day, when Indiana had boarded the train and watched as Marcus took Anna from the platform, he realized something. This was going to be the first time in nearly two whole years that he was going to be able to act like a normal college kid again, live life at his own pace, and not worry about needing to take care of a helpless ball of trouble twenty-four hours a day.

Grabbing a newspaper from a paper boy and tossing a coin in return, Indiana opened the morning headlines as he strolled to his destination. There were headlines about international naval regulations being discussed, Japan pressing for ships as large as America's, political pressure groups talking about getting submarines and poison gas banned... he quickly flipped through the pages to get past the disquieting political opinions and talk. However, the more he flipped through, the more advertisements for men's suits, handkerchiefs, and even more politics: "Feminists rock the family life boat", "For Police Control of Drug Addicts", "Rail Pay Must Drop - Reds Still A Menace", and "Birth Control - Is It Moral?".

Indiana folded the paper underneath his arm, shaking his head silently to himself as he made his way towards a certain pier. Checking his watch, he found himself only a few minutes late for their assigned meeting, and paused to look around for his contact.

As soon as he paid attention, he found that Richard's large frame stood out amongst the crowd. The man leaned against a lamp post, hands in his pockets and eyes on the passing pedestrians. Happily jogging over, Indiana reached up to tip his hat.

"Hey, Rich!" he called out as he pushed through the crowd.

The other man's eyes instantly lit up, and he extended his hand, "Good to see you again, Skimpy."

"Yeah, good morning," Indiana shook the other man's hand, "Sorry, I couldn't bring Anna. I'm here on business, I left her with a friend back on Chicago," he immediately clarified, a fear of being wrung out by the larger man still lingering.

"...Damn," said Rich after a protracted pause, "What's the business?"

"I'm going to Egypt with my professor. If I impress I might get a tuition to go to France," Indiana explained, placing his hands in his pocket, before leaning and tilting his head back towards the street indicatively, "You hungry? I got some money for lunch on me."

Rich raised his eyebrows, "Must've gotten a good job with all that coal-shovelin' experience," he cackled, following Indiana out onto the street as they made in the opposite direction from the water.

Not feeling up to explaining the entirety of his circumstances and drag down his image in front of his friend, Indiana simply shrugged and lied, "I got lucky and scored work at an upper class restaurant."

"Lucky's right," Rich nodded, unquestioning, "Tell me all about what's been going on with you in the last year."

"I came home to my apartment after seeing you last. My friend, he's a curator, he helped get me in touch with this German zoologist. He studied Anna a bunch, shed some really interesting light on a bunch of stuff. He ended up agreeing to stay silent when I told him I'd like to keep her and give her a shot at a normal life," Indiana summarized as they came up to the window of a pleasant-looking, half-filled cafe.

Just as Indiana went to walk in, Rich's hand caught him on the shoulder and pulled him back. Indiana initially gave a look of confusion, until Rich's finger jabbed towards a sign in the other window:

"NO DOGS - NO COLORED"

With a sigh, Indiana placed his hands back in his pockets and continued to walk down the street by his friend, "I wonder if they do this kinda stuff in France," he mused.

"Better up here than in the South," Rich chuckled, "That steakhouse we ate at was asking for an arson case from the Klan. Safe Travels might be rough, but at least there ain't no segregation in the boiler room," a pause, "I don't wanna talk about that, though. Tell me more about Anna."

"Well she can talk," Indiana said, happy to change the subject as they crossed a street, "I think I mentioned that already. Uh... she can fly too?"

"...Really?" Rich asked, genuinely surprised, "Those wings were tiny."

"Yeah the zoologist is pretty mystified too. I can say the same. Makes it hard to keep her in sight, considering I need to keep all the windows closed so she doesn't fly away in the day," a smile grew on Indiana's face, and he looked over to make eye contact as he added, "But I let her outside sometimes. I tied a rope around her, so she's like a kite, flying around in my backyard."

"Got a backyard, now?"

"Yeah. I upgraded away from my apartment. Just wasn't enough space for her to grow up right in there," Indiana shrugged. Another cafe came into view, and after a cursory viewing of the windows, there was no sign to be found. They entered, with the quaint ring of a bell and were seated shortly after.

A few minutes later, they were served sandwiches, lemonade, and a side of fries. Marcus's money would pay the bill, and the friendly disposition of the waitress despite the mostly-white clientele of the cafe made Indiana consider adding to the tip out of his own pocket.

"Sorbonne?" Richard asked, "What's that going to be like?"

"Well it's a pretty good university," Indiana said, taking a bite of his sandwich, "Biggest hurdle for an American would be learning French, but I already know it. From there, I'd try and go for a doctoral program, maybe at Sorbonne, maybe back in Chicago, maybe London, I dunno."

"Doctor Jones?" Rich probed.

"Doctor Jones," Indiana nodded passively, "I mean, if you want financial security without being a big businessman, nothing beats a tenured professor pulling in three to four grand a year at an ivy league school."

Rich, fry halfway inside his mouth, raised both his eyebrows, "...Damn. That's a lot of money."

"If I got grant money and taught at a good school, that's the sort of paycheck I'd be looking at," Indiana said, a small grin forming on his face, "Though, even with a more pessimistic estimate, I'd probably be pulling somewhere closer to half of that, again with grant money."

"You make a man like me jealous," Rich admitted, leaning back in his seat and dusting the salt off his fingers, "Me? I'm thinking I may need to jump ship and start looking for a different job."

"Why?" Indiana asked.

"Rumor has it the Safe Travels is going to start smuggling alcohol," Rich scowled, "Not that the old business is bad now. Still making just as much money as before. But now alcohol's expensive, and I bet it'll make the skipper more money. Lots of ships are starting to think the same way, especially ones that can mix rum in with their usual cargo."

Indiana gave a shifty look throughout the cafe's patronage. Fortunately, none seemed to hear Rich's casual talk about breaking the law. Indy leaned forward and asked in a low tone, "You afraid you'll get sent back to prison?"

"Sort of," Rich shrugged, before shaking his head, "That's not why I dislike it, anyway..." a wince as he carefully considered his next words, "I always been dry since I turned my life around. I never supported Prohibition, cause I believed we'd just get the same amount of drinking and more crime. Doesn't mean I support being the criminal myself. A dry America would be a good America."

"I'll just be glad to get away from all the politics in the States for a while," Indiana shrugged, "After the War, I didn't think I'd find the prospect of returning to France appealing, but with crime being the way it is in Chicago..."

"You think crime's getting worse?"

"Always is, but it's growing faster nowadays. I've started thinking about saving up to buy a gun to carry with me," Indiana ran a thumb across his cheek, "Thought I'd seen enough guns for a lifetime in the War," a pause, "What would you do if you had to bail from the Safe Travels?"

"No idea. That's the only reason I'm considering not doing it," Rich shook his head, "I've got the pleasure of not being a pauper. I'd rather that not change, but hard for a guy like me to find decent work these days."

"I'd say just keep your head down," Indiana suggested, clasping his hands in front of himself, and his empty plate, "Some morality just isn't worth starving on the side of the road."

"What's the point of good clothes and good food if you don't got nothing to live for, Skimpy?" Rich questioned, tilting his head.

Indiana suppressed a roll of his eyes, "I'd rather be a comfortable thief than a smug beggar."

"A comfortable thief would've sold Anna," Rich, almost immediately, shot back, "And from what you said in your letter, you nearly were a smug beggar."

Indiana's lips twitched, "Jury's still out on if that was the right decision."

"It was," Rich said, in a surprisingly reassuring tone, "Don't ever talk yourself out of that mindset. What you did was the right thing, and you'll look back one day and know I was right."

"I'll be much more sure once I've got a stable salary and no creditors," Indiana said, reaching into his pocket as the waitress came back around with the bill. Taking out Marcus's money, and a generous tip on top of it, he paid both of their dues and returned the waitress's smile.

Soon, they were walking back down the boulevard of New York Harbor, exchanging idle chatter and watching the steamboats pass by. Soon enough, they were back at the berth where the Safe Travels sat, water sloshing at its hull. Richard once again extended his hand in farewell.

"Next time we meet, I want to see Anna and talk to her," he demanded as Indiana took his hand.

"I'll try my best," Indiana nodded.

"Better try better than your best," Rich took his hand back, "Take care of yourself. Bring me back a mummy or something from Egypt."

Indiana Jones gave a laugh as he waved and walked away from the pier. Archaeologists didn't bring back mummies from pyramids - at least not any more - and they DEFINITELY didn't follow maps to buried treasure!

Author's Note

A continuation on the philosophy of canonicity that I used when outlining the plot of this tory. Casual consumers of Indiana Jones probably don't give a single shit about any of this, but this is just a message for my fellow hardcore fans and lore enjoyers:

A lot of lore, especially in this period, is defined by comics and books. Even within those pieces, there is conflicting information and storylines that make very little sense when applied to the greater timeline. While I intend to leverage fully any 'extended canon' that would contribute to the enjoyability of this story, I intend to disregard deep and extended lore that could cause disruptions and other issues. In fact, almost all book and comic lore is going to be completely glossed over.

Anna being in the storyline already interferes with the canon timeline, of course. I'm sorry if any of your favorite events or adventures are glossed over or ignored outright.

I will quickly post a spoilered list of things that are going to be directly covered in the story (as in seen from the perspective of the protagonists and majorly influenced by the presence of Anna):
Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
Raiders of the Lost Ark
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis
Indiana Jones and the Great Circle

Here is another list of major entries that will not be given the same treatment, and why:
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull - Too late in the timeline.
Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny - Way too late in the timeline. Also I hate it.
Indiana Jones and the Emperor's Tomb - Too early in the timeline to be worth the word count.
Most of the videogames aside from ones already mentioned - They exist either too late in the timeline or are abandonware that I can't play.

9: Real Archaeology, 1922

"Well, Anna, welcome to your Uncle Marcus's home."

Anna, eyes sore and cheeks streaked from tears, gazed around the area. A foyer was integrated directly with a staircase that lead to a second floor. A granite-tiled bathroom hung off to the left of the foyer, with polished fixtures and fluffy towels. A lounge lay beyond a set of doors, flanked by a dining room, a window with a splendid view of the Chicago skyline, and a fully equipped kitchen from which wafted the smell of food.

"Unca Marcus," Anna said, before scrunching up her muzzle and adding: "-Hawse."

Nodding, Marcus grunted as he finally let the toddler down out of his arms and onto the carpeted floor. Straightening up and sighing, he said, "I expect you to behave in as lady-like a manner as is possible for one of your age and disposition while under my roof! In return, I shall vow to treat you with all the familial respect I owe you."

Anna blinked at him.

"...Erh," Marcus averted his eyes from hers, looking towards the kitchen, "Martha? Are you back there?"

"Yes, Mr Brody, sorry for not greeting you!" came a woman's voice, "The cakes just left the oven!"

"Don't worry about it," Marcus said, taking off his coat and hanging it by the door, along with his hat, "Come out here when you're ready, I want you to meet my friend's daughter! The one I'll be taking care of for the next few months!"

A soft flutter of wings, reminding him of the sound of a pigeon taking off from a sidewalk after being spooked, caused Marcus to turn back around. Suddenly, Anna was gone from the ground and was instead casting a shadow on the floor, shifting between multiple light sources shining down from the ceiling. Connecting the dots after a second, Marcus looked up, squinting at the electric light burned into his eyes.

Above the foyer, near the top of the spiral staircase, hung a bronze chandelier. Anna was flying up towards it, eyes wide and sparkling with the orange-yellow light of the bulbs inside.

At that moment, a woman in a skirt and apron walked forth into Marcus's peripheral view, "What's the matter, Mr Bro- oh!" she exclaimed as her eyes followed his and saw the same sight, "Is that a giant flying rat?"

"No, that's my friend's daughter," Marcus frowned, "Anna! Get down here, this instant!" he pointed towards his feet in what he hoped was a authoritative voice.

Anna, to her credit, did look back down at the two humans an entire storey below her. However, instead of complying, she hooked a leg around an arm of the chandelier and hung there, allowing the light to flow down over her beige shirt, golden coat, and flowing greyscale mane. The chain holding up the chandelier clicked slightly as the links ground against each other, the entire chandelier tilting oh-so-slightly under the weight of the toddler clinging to it.

Marcus put his hands on his hips, before inclining his head towards his housekeeper, "Martha, go up there and try and grab her."

The woman, despite her shock, complied. Grabbing the edges of her skirt, she began to jog up the stairs to the top. There, she leaned on the railing and reached out hesitantly towards the strange creature. As her hand grasped outwards, coming within inches of Anna, the filly fell from the arm - either from the shock or from a lack of strength. The fall caused Marcus's heart to leap, yet fortunately Anna caught herself with her own wings, hovering around halfway up the stairs, out of reach of both Marcus and Martha.

Holding his arms out towards her, Marcus tried once again to convince his niece to come down into his arms, "You'll hurt yourself, Anna dear! Come down here at once, that's not a toy!"

Anna looked down, then back up at Martha, who hesitated between staying in position and walking down a flight to get a chance at reaching again. Then, she began to beat her wings, ascending back up next to the chandelier, much to Marcus's frustration.

"That's a very naughty thing to do, Anna!" Marcus shouted.

"Nuh uh!" Anna said, grabbing an arm of the chandelier that was out of Martha's reach.

"You're just encouraging her, Mr Brody!" Martha answered, leaning away from the railing with a grunt of exertion, looking around for some form of tool to extend her reach. Finding a broom, she picked it up and extended the sweeping side out towards the child.

"Can't catch meeeee!" Anna giggled as she began to dodge the broom. In doing so, though, she beat her wings away from the swiping of the implement, all while still holding on. The chains of the chandelier ground once again as the entire assembly swung away from the stairwell.

"Don't do that! You're going to damage that!" Marcus shouted from below, though it was in vain.

All while Martha tried to dislodge Anna, the toddler found the makeshift swing increasingly more and more entertaining with each motion. Eventually, Martha had to duck away as the chandelier swung over the bannister of the staircase, giving out a scream as the metal contraption groaned under the stress. A puff of dust came from the anchor point where the chain was hooked into the ceiling, and cracks in the plaster began to spread out.

Marcus's eyes widened and he leapt out of the way just as the ceiling gave way with a meaty 'CRUNCH'. Chunks of plaster rained down as the lights in the foyer went out, the chandelier plummeting down and crashing to the floor. A coffee table was crushed, along with one half of a couch. Floorboards that underpinned the carpet sprung into the air at the collision, though thankfully the chandelier failed to continue its course and rested in a pile of rubble, the apartment on the floor below spared from damage.

Anna hovered in the air, having let go of the chandelier shortly after it fell. As the sounds of plaster smashing against the floor, the rumble of support beams, and the tinkle of smashed lightbulbs faded away, Anna offered a single phrase: "Uh oh."

Marcus, lying on his back mere feet away from the crash site, felt a rising of irrational anger that the mild-mannered curator very rarely felt. Fingers digging into the ripped, crinkled carpet beneath him, he looked up at the gold-colored shape in midair above him and screamed, red in the face: "ANNAAAAAAAAAAA!"

After a week on the sea, travel through Cairo, a long journey down the coast, and a stay in an inn, Indiana Jones found himself in the back of an automobile, trundling across the sand towards a dig site. He sat in the front passenger seat, while Abner Ravenwood sat in the driver's and Marion sat in the back. The heat of the desert sun radiated off of the hood, while dry, hot air blew through the cabin through the wound-down windows on either side.

Indiana wiped sweat from his head, letting out a long, weary sigh. Despite it being winter, the area they were in - a part of the Sahara - was still wildly hot. The worst part was that the automobile's frame had become heated under the sun, making the humid, sticky seats the only safe places to rest one's limbs.

"It's really hot, Dad," Marion said from the back.

"I know," Ravenwood said simply. Like Indiana, the experienced archaeologist knew well the discomfort of deserts. Despite the sweat rolling down their foreheads and sticking in their elbows and necks, they knew there was little point in thinking about anything but the end of the road ahead.

"How's the expedition getting water all the way out here?" Indiana asked, reaching for the canteen tucked between his seat and the gearbox.

"There will be a constant caravan of camels delivering us our rations," Ravenwood nodded, "You should observe your water rations carefully. I won't have you having heatstroke, Indy."

"Not my first time in the desert, Professor," Indiana gave a smile, "I'll be fine. You should worry about your daughter."

He gave a glance to the back seat, where Marion was in the process of leaning out the window and trying to let the wind slick the sweat out of her hair.

"Marion, dear, you should ask the camp barber to cut back your hair while we're here," Ravenwood warned, "It will just make you hotter."

"Ugh. Shave it all off, at this point!" Marion shouted over the sounds of the engine and the wind, head still out the window.

Indiana mopped another wave of sweat from his forehead, before raising his voice and adding, "You'll need at least some of that hair come nightfall."

"This isn't anything like a summer beach vacation, Dad!" Marion shouted.

Ravenwood gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head, "There's plenty of sand and sun! What else could you want?"

The car crested a hill, revealing a large camp arrayed out in a valley, surrounded by desert rises and veiled in wisps of sand that followed the wind from the tips of the dunes. White tents reflected the sun, some small and clearly meant for personal use while some larger ones had more function. To the right wing of the campsite, a large field had been cleared and levelled, with several shallow pits sunken into the ground and roped off. Native workers hustled between the tents and the digs, tools in hand and singing some sort of working tune. Flapping in the wind and hoisted atop a flagpole in the middle of the camp, the Union Jack signified exactly who had first pickings over the results of the dig.

The engine shut off and a worker came to refuel the car. Soon, Indiana found himself towing his luggage behind him and walking next to his mentor through the center of the camp. His fedora shielded his head somewhat from the sun, but he could already feel his skin slowly burning under the intense rays. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, which had previously been pulled back for better ventilation in the car but now needed to suffocate his sweaty arms to shield them from the horrors of sunburn.

"When were you last in Egypt, Jones?" Ravenwood asked, smoothing his wiry hair before pulling down his African Service Pith Helmet down over his head.

"When I was around eleven years old," Indiana said, dropping his luggage for a moment to pull on a pair of hide gloves from his pockets, protecting his hands from a similar fate as his arms, "I went to a dig site with my family. I met Ned Lawrence there. Thomas Lawrence, that is."

"Yes, you've told me," Ravenwood said, holding for a moment as Indiana picked up his luggage and caught up, "About you meeting Lawrence, that is. Not about the dig, yet."

"It was the tomb of some old Egyptian architect," said Indiana as he shrugged, "Named Kha. Heard of it?"

Ravenwood briefly scolded Marion for trying to roll up her sleeves to expose her already partially-sunburnt forearms, before he turned back to Indiana and hummed, "Hmm! Kha? Yes- Yes I do believe I've read about it!"

"Well I didn't do that much," Indiana said, looking away from the two and back towards where they were walking, "Just got shown around mostly. I was a boy. Was probably what really inspired me to look into archaeology, though."

This was, mostly, a lie. There was that thief that attempted to take a gilded feature piece from the tomb, the fact that the tomb itself was trapped, the time when Indiana played lookout for Ned... but he had neither the energy nor the will to explain the entire story to Ravenwood while they slowly basted out in the open. Fortunately, though, it seemed their troubles were about to be solved as a man approached from a large marquee pitched right next to the flagpole.

He wore all-white, a standard outfit for the desert sun. An African Service pith helmet sat upon his head, an orange moustache and chops grew from his face, sunburned cheeks were upturned in a smile, and a modest belly stuck out over his belt. His sleeves were rolled up, showing a growing tan but no sunburn. He stuck out a hand towards Ravenwood.

"Ah! Dr Ravenwood!" the man said in an English accent, "Good to see you made it in one piece! My sincerest apologies we couldn't offer you a guide. I hope you had no troubles with the directions?"

"No troubles at all!" said Ravenwood with a wave of his hand. After shaking the other man's hand, he extended an arm backwards, indicating towards his two followers, "I believe you've met my daughter, Marion. This man here is Indiana Jones, one of my students."

The british man gave a nod towards Marion, before smiling and extending another shake towards Indiana, "I am Dr James Barnetson. Only the workers call me Dr Barnetson, everyone else here calls me James. So shall you."

"Nice to meet you, James," Indiana smiled and shook his hand, "Honored to be here."

"Indiana's a rather strange name," James noted, breaking off the shake and immediately looking towards Ravenwood, "Isn't that the name of an American state?"

"It's a nickname, I believe," Ravenwood tipped his head, looking back at Indiana over his glasses.

Indiana shrugged awkwardly as Barnetson moved his gaze back towards him, "My real name's Henry, but I'd prefer to be called Indiana, if it's all the same to you."

"I suppose not!" James said with a laugh, "Ah! But where are my manners? Let's get you all inside out of this blasted sun. Most of the others are enjoying tea."

Turning the man shouted something in Arabic at a nearby native worker. Indiana recognized it instantly as a request to take their luggage, and hefted his bags in expectation as the man scurried over and loaded himself with the luggage of the three newcomers.

"Your daughter might want to follow him to the tent," James suggested, "While us adults get associated."

Ravenwood nodded, looking to his daughter and pointing towards the worker. Marion, for her part, crossed her arms for a moment, then rolled her eyes, then followed the native worker with a frustrated sigh. Indiana watched the two of them go for a second, before looking back to the mouth of the tent and following the two archaeologists inside.

Indiana's eyes found themselves needing to adjust to the starkly duskier interior of the tent - especially when compared to the almost-glowing sand outside. James quickly instructed them to kick off their boots, as to not track sand inside the tarpaulin covering the floor. After unlacing his boots and stepping from the sand onto the tarp, Indiana found himself in a relatively comfortable space.

A record player let out classical music from atop a small wooden table. A larger table sat behind it, where sets of tin and porcelain teaware were set up in the arrangement of a traditional English meal. Four other men sat around the table, sleeves rolled up and hats doffed. They all regarded the new entrants with curiosity.

"Boys, these are the Americans we were promised," said James with a smile, walking around and taking his place at the head of the table, "Last time we had such a cultured table, the War was still going!"

Laughs were elicited from across the table, and even Indiana managed a weak smile as he sat down in an empty seat next to Ravenwood. His throat burned for the various liquids available on the table, despite all of the water he had already ingested on the way over.

"This is Dr. Ravenwood, our expert Egyptologist," James first introduced, "And his student, Indiana Jones."

Turning his attention, James began to introduce those who were already at the table, "This is Dr MacLarty, our conservator," the mentioned wiry man with an oversized moustache extended a hand over the table to the newcomers, "Next to him is Dr Claire, our geologist," the bearded man indicated gave a short wave, "At the end of the table there is Dr Paron, Archaeobotanist and Linguist," a goateed man with a sunburned nose and spectacles offered his hand for a shake, "Then, finally, the man next to him is his student: René Belloq."

'Belloq', the only other man of similar age to Indiana at the table, offered his hand first to Indy, "Good to meet you, Mr Jones."

The first few weeks of Anna's stay at the Brody residence were rough, to say the least. She had not, to date, been away from her father for as long of a stretch, a fact which was made clear to Marcus by her repeated vocalizations:

"Where daddy?" Anna asked.

"In Egypt," Marcus explained simply as he sat on the couch, morning paper opened in front of him.

Anna slumped her shoulders as she hovered above him, "What Eggipt?"

"Egypt," Marcus enunciated more clearly, "It's a country across the sea."

"Sea? What sea?"

And so the questioning gauntlet would continue for several hours, until inevitably Anna would get bored enough to start messing with one of Marcus's valuable possessions, she would get scolded, then cry until Marcus gave up and gave her something to play with. His working days were often no better, with Anna needing to be left with the secretary when he went to confidential meetings, where she would no doubt wreak havoc across the Acquisitions Office until manually restrained.

Then she would cry again, like the world had betrayed her for acting up.

Marcus Brody understood, to a fault, that children were simply 'like this'. That they were unchained spirits that caused havoc until taught proper discipline. And, normal human toddlers could not go and toss urns of human ashes off the top of fireplace mantles and smear ink across precious documents.

He knew Indiana had some sort of way of keeping Anna under control when it came to flight, though had failed to ask him about the specifics before he had left. The man was much more concerned about the arrangements for Indy's participation in the dig than about Anna. He'd foolishly though the latter part would be simple!

Regardless, Anna's constant antics at the University was reducing his overall work performance. Figuring it was better to try and keep Anna under control in the short term, Marcus arranged for leave until he was ready to leave for Washington around New Year's. Claiming it was to assist in Dr Richter's studies - which wasn't even a lie - his leave was approved, allowing him to focus his attention on his most unusual niece.

One day, though, Martha pointed out the fact that Anna was growing more and more unruly every day, likely due to her being cooped up inside of the apartment. Children needed to run around and play, she had said. Marcus had said that children being allowed to wreak havoc on the streets caused all kinds of trouble, which Martha had countered with personal experience that children let out to play illogically caused less trouble than children that were forced to sit around. Marcus wouldn't know, when he was young he had a private garden to play in with his similarly well-to-do neighbor children.

Still, the problem remained that all sorts of trouble could arise from allowing Anna to fly around outside. Then, an idea had popped into his mind as he conducted the activity that most often conjured good ideas.

"Anna?" Marcus asked as he came out of the bathroom, spotting the hovering gold foal observing the construction workers repairing the floor below from the second floor bannister.

Anna spared a look back towards Marcus, but didn't answer.

Still, with her attention caught, Marcus asked, "Say, miss, how does your father let you outside?"

"I wanna go outside!" Anna immediately said, shooting up into Marcus's face, wings buzzing furiously.

Stumbling backwards in shock for a moment and leaning on a nearby wall, Marcus stuttered for a moment, "Er- well, Anna, first I need to know what daddy does when he lets you outside."

Anna narrowed her eyes, before slowly folding her forelegs in a way eerily reminiscent of a human expression of annoyance, "...I dunna want tell you!"

Straightening himself up and adjusting his suit-jacket, Marcus raised his nose, "Anna. I promise you if you tell me we'll go outside right now and take a walk in the park."

Anna seemed to weigh up that offer, scrunching her nose, before looking away and admitting, "Daddy call me kaie. Kai- kait. Kite. I like kite, want to..." a pause, "...Away."

Marcus frowned and deciphered the foal's riddle for a time that was a lot longer than he would've liked to admit. Moments later, Marcus peeked into the kitchen, where his housekeeper prepared a meal, "Martha! I shall be late for dinner! I must drive to buy a length of rope!"

Camp life was not all that Indiana had expected it to be. He'd expected now, after years of study, he might be able to be appreciated and respected, allowed to actually contribute scientifically. Instead, he struggled constantly to find anything more to do than follow Ravenwood around with a notebook and pen, scribbling down whatever random analyses he made of oddly-shaped rocks and junk that the workers extracted from the pits. What had been extracted over the month since him and the Ravenwoods arrived indicated there was something of archaeological significance nearby, but they were perhaps just missing it.

It was long, hard work, made harder by the constant beating of the sun and heat radiating from tent walls. The conditions were something he was definitely used to after a childhood of travelling Africa and Asia, but conditions combined with utterly unstimulating work were something he wasn't used to.

Ravenwood assured him the process was the same for all students. Walking around the camp, doing tasks barely less menial than the native laborer's, and scrutinizing rocks all day. "If you wanted to loot buried treasures all day, you should've joined the British Museum" he'd said, while far out of earshot from both Dr Barnetson and Dr MacLarty.

Of all those in the camp, though, Indiana had found friendship in the French student, Belloq. While initially impassive, once Indiana showed that he could speak fluent French, both him and the rest of the Sorbonne archaeologists had instantly warmed up. While the other Frenchmen were separated from Indiana by an age gap and a professional hierarchy, Indiana found himself in the same boat as René: bored, exhausted, and questioning his academic choices.

One night, Indiana gladly accepted an invitation from René to share wine by a firepit, under the clear, desert night sky. The wind blew against a windbreak they'd set up by their fire pit, and the fire warded off the desert chill as the two students sat in wooden folding chairs, a bottle of wine sitting in the sand by their feet.

"It's just not really what I expected," Indiana admitted, watching the fire dance as he swirled his glass, "Papers, libraries, reading, sucking up to dusty old guys... I'd always known in theory that was just what archaeology was, but..."

"...But you thought once you got into working in it, it might be more interesting than it seemed," René nodded understandingly, "I find myself in mostly the same position. It must be made even harder by your material circumstances."

"I really need to bust my back getting your teacher to like me," Indiana chuckled, taking a swig of the wine, "Or else I'm out of luck."

"Ah, Dr Paron is very respectful of veterans," René assured, following Indiana's drink with one of his own, "And you speaking French has no doubt improved your chances. I hear your own professor pushes very strongly in your favor as well," watching carefully as Indiana maintained his melancholy and quickly took another sip of wine, René eventually added, "Come now, Mr Jones, just think of the money you'll get once you're out of the doctoral program."

"Hah!" Indiana spat bitterly, "I can hardly afford my Master's, what am I going to do about my doctoral studies? I'll need to support my own research on a dissertation, keep travelling around the world..." he trailed off, before shaking his head, "I can't just keep leaving Anna at home. I'd have to haul her around like Abner does for Marion."

"Who's Anna?" René asked, reaching down and retrieving the bottle to refill Indiana's cup.

"My daughter," a pause, "Adoptive. It's a long story."

"I love long stories. We have all night," René shrugged.

Marcus had to admit, he did not get to walk in the city park all that often. Most of the walking he did was between his car and his office, and the occasional jog when he had the self-control to take the time out of his day to do so. However, he had found that the city was an undesirable location when letting Anna outside for a fly, as it was filled with overhead objects and blind spots.

So one time the historian decided to take his niece to the city park, instead of the streets just outside his upscale apartment. That had turned out to be a much better alternative, as Anna seemed to love jumping hopping between trees (especially now that they no longer had leaves) and looking down at the people strolling below. Additionally, the open skies were something she would constantly soar up into until she hit the end of her rope.

A rope that was securely wrapped several times around Marcus's hand and upper arm with several loops. After the one time that he lost his grip on Anna and had to chase the flailing end of the rope through the streets, Marcus had made extra sure that losing Anna was thoroughly impossible.

They arrived at a clearing, where a fountain sat in the midst of a grassy knoll, park benches surrounding it. Due to it being winter, the knoll was instead caked with a healthy layer of powder, and the fountain was frozen over. Looking around a few times, Marcus failed to spot any sign of the man he was meant to meet.

"I'm going to take a rest now, Anna!" Marcus shouted upwards, and he was answered by a distant 'ogay!'. With a sigh, the man made his way for a nearby bench and sat, allowing some of the rope to uncoil from around his arm to give Anna just a bit more room to wander.

After taking a handkerchief and dabbing at his forehead a few times, Marcus reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve a copy of the newspaper. For a few minutes, he sat in peace, reading away while Anna joyfully wound big corkscrews and dove through the air above. Occasionally, a passer by would look upwards and ask what kind of bird Marcus had managed to obtain and where they could get one.

He'd always just make up the name of a pet store somewhere in China (and sometimes France) and finish with "They're very common there."

A familiar face eventually strolled up to the park bench, a similar copy of the morning headlines under his arm as he looked up. Dr Johan Richter followed the rope leading up into the sky, before holding a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun. With a humm, he noted, "She continues to heft that rope effortlessly."

Marcus looked up from his papers to the doctor, "Impressive, isn't it?"

Johan reached down to sweep some of the snow off of the bench and sit down next to Marcus, "That rope must weigh something close to her body weight, yet it's taught."

"She does get tired out quickly from it," said Marcus, following Johan's gaze up to the sky, "I suspect a little while longer and she'll want to come back down and ask to be carried."

Johan opened his briefcase, taking out a sketchpad and pencil along with a pair of binoculars. Raising it to his eyes, he took quick looks up towards Anna, sketching a general likeness with his other hand, "How has her health been? I assume Mr Jones passed on my dietary recommendations?"

"No meats," Marcus recited, "That's all he said."

A frown as Johan's eyebrows settled atop the binoculars, "I also said no dairies and certain starches. No chocolates, and to avoid certain vegetables."

"Oh- well," Marcus raised a hand to wave dismissively, before he paused and cautiously asked, "Er- what does ice cream count as?"

"A dairy product," Johan automatically said, before lowering his binoculars and looking towards Marcus, "...You haven't been feeding her any, have you?"

Marcus had introduced Anna to frosted treats when she had grown curious as to the contents of an ice cream stand they passed by during one of their walks in the park. She had voraciously consumed it, just as any child would, then proceeded to ask for more. And they had gotten more, every single time they saw somewhere selling it on their walks - which was admittedly rare in the winter.

"She hasn't gotten sick," Marcus offered lamely.

"We don't know if her digestive system can handle human foods," Johan tutted, looking through his binoculars again, "They could be toxic, for all you know," a pause, "...At least you haven't been feeding her chocolate."

It had started with Martha making her hot cocoa, then spread to Marcus eventually giving her a treat to bribe her into being cooperative during bath time. Just like ice cream, Anna enjoyed the confectionary like any other child would - with whole bites and requests for more.

Marcus swallowed silently, glancing nervously at Johan before turning his gaze back towards Anna. The foal was now hovering strangely still, looking down at something on a nearby tree. There, a pigeon sat on a branch, resting its wings as it watched humans stroll beneath it. The city bird was thoroughly unafraid of human presence... though it failed to look up as Anna suddenly dove towards it.

Johan visibly brightened as Anna made her move, and Marcus watched curiously alongside him.

Despite the speed of the tiny equine diving towards it, the pigeon simply had better awareness. It sprung from the branch and flew away a second before Anna came in, crashed through the branch, and tumbled through the snow with a painful-sounding crash. At the speed she was moving at, it seemed more than life-threatening, even for an adult human.

This fact made both men on the park bench leap to their feet and sprint over to the small furrow in the snow that had absorbed Anna's crash. The rope lead straight towards the impact site, and from it a cry began to emanate, like a warning siren spinning up.

"Anna!? Anna!?" Marcus shouted out, wading through the snow and clawing away the frost with his delicate, woolen gloves.

Head covered in snow, face red, and eyes full of tears, Anna popped from the snow. Her ears were flattened, and red blood poured from her muzzle. Her nose was obviously displaced, yet her forehooves were clamped around her neck. When Marcus went to grab her immediately, his arm was stayed by Johan.

"She might have broken something in her neck," Johan said, voice tense. Immediately, he began to unbutton his coat and take it off, "Keep her head steady, we'll stretch zis under her and carry her to your car."

"Shhh! Shh! It's alright, it's okay," Marcus soothed, raising his hands from where they were about to grip up to Anna's neck, gently holding where her hooves were clamped down.

Stabilizing her head as best as they could, the two men carried Anna back to Marcus's car. There, Johan was able to diagnose that, fortunately, there appeared to be no fracture of the spine, just strained muscles. He also noted that she was lucky to have fallen on her face, as her muzzle's bones had absorbed enough of the impact to not crack her skull.

"A human child would have died from that kind of a fall!" Marcus said, using his body to shield from the wind trying to sweep into the cabin of the car, as Johan tended to Anna's injuries in the back seats.

"I suspect her skeletal structure is hardened against injury from falls. It would only make sense, from an evolutionary standpoint," Johan adjusted his glasses, using whatever he had on hand as makeshift gaze to help stuff Anna's nose, "Her instincts may have helped her learn how to fly without aid, but I suspect they may not have taught her common sense."

Indiana Jones sat at a table, hat hanging on the back of his seat and canvas shielding his head from the sun. In his hand, he held a magnifying glass that scanned across the symbols and carvings atop several pieces of fragmented stone. His other hand was filled with a pencil, which he used to slowly scratch away at a notepad.

Dr Paron and Ravenwood stood nearby, at their own table, discussing something between themselves that didn't quite catch Indiana's ear as he focused on his work. Two months into the excavation, and they had finally found something even relatively interesting. They believed it was some sort of monument - or navigational beacon, only a few feet taller than a human and buried under a mountain of sand. Things had been carved into the walls of said beacon, the exterior walls no less. Any structure should have had its markings completely worn away by sand erosion before being buried, which made it all the stranger that the writing was still legible.

A certain set of symbols caught his eye, and he quickly translated the words in his mind, "Tanis?" Indiana muttered to himself, lowering his eyebrows as he scratched the word on his notepad. However, before he could continue down the tablet, a young, girlish voice suddenly broke the air.

"Mr Jones?" Marion said, causing the mentioned man to jump slightly at her sudden appearance behind him.

Indiana dropped his pencil and held a hand to his chest, turning in his seat to look at the girl, "Jesus Christ, kid, what're you doing out here?"

"I'm bored," she said, placing her hands on her hips, "What're you doing?"

"I-" Indiana started, but another voice cut him off.

"Marion, dear, don't interrupt the grownups! Go play!" Ravenwood commanded, folding his arms.

"But, Dad!"

"It's alright," Indiana spoke up, relating to the girl's boredom at least in some sense, "My eyes needed a break anyway."

"Your eyes strain themselves rather easily, Indy," Ravenwood said, beginning to slowly stroll over, accompanied by the Frenchman, "You should have them checked. You might need glasses."

Dr Paron remained silent, but overtook past Ravenwood and walked to Indiana's side, crouching to look at the student's notes. He gave a curious hum as he read.

"I can see just fine," Indiana waved a hand dismissively, dropping the magnifying glass and rubbing his eyes with the now-free hand, "Just a little tired is all."

"I see you in class all the time holding your books a few inches from your face, Jones, you should really see an optometrist. Are you sure your eyes never got any gas in the war?" Ravenwood pressed, walking close enough to Marion to place a hand on her shoulder.

A man collapsed onto Indiana. The soldier had failed to find his gas mask in time. He stared at him with wide, panicked, reddened eyes that bled from their corners. Eyes of a man about to die. He begged for help. Indiana stood, staring through the foggy glass lenses of his own mask, frozen in place as the man collapsed to the ground, dying. He didn't even get the chance to see him stop moving, as the call to defend the side came so soon afterwards. At the end of the battle, he couldn't even distinguish the man's corpse amongst the many.

"I was always really good about my mask," Indiana said in an even tone.

Fortunately, Ravenwood got the hint and quickly changed the subject, "What's the progress so far, then?"

"I double checked the notes you gave me. Most of them seem accurate, but I uh... read through some stuff and I think I managed to crack these inscriptions here," said Indiana, waggling a finger at a few of the stone pieces in front of him.

Dr Paron adjusted his glasses, "Tanis?" he asked, tapping a finger against the bottom of Indiana's notebook.

"Yeah. You said it was a bunch of jumbled letters in your notes, but uh, I think you were pulling from the wrong version of the language. This one's older, I think," Indiana pointed to the piece from which he'd translated the world, "See? You can tell this one's older than the others. That's what made me go and look it up."

"Mon Dieu, you might be right!" Paron narrowed his eyes, before nodding to himself, "Yes, you are right! Jones, you've saved me a very embarrassing correction in front of my peers!"

"What might be the context?" Ravenwood reached up to his chin, stroking it, "Was the monument meant to navigate travellers towards the north?"

"No, no," Indiana shook his head, "The carvings clearly point towards the south."

"Perhaps there is more of Tanis that is yet to be unearthed?" Paron hypothesized, straightening up and stepping back from Indiana's notes.

"Let's not speculate for now," Ravenwood sighed, before walking over and slapping Indiana on the shoulder, "Good job, Indiana. A good way to end our work here."

"End?" Marion asked, hopefully looking up from her task of twiddling her thumbs.

"Dig's almost over," Indiana said, standing up from his chair and straightening out his jacket, "Our funding ended a week ago, so there's no more caravans coming. Unless we'd like to stay in the desert and die of thirst, we're going to be packing up real soon and heading home."

"Oh thank God," Marion sighed, before yelping as she got a light tap on the back of the head.

"Don't use the Lord's name in vain, girl," Ravenwood scolded.

"We've tapped the site for most of what it's worth, anyway," said Paron, before he gave a look towards Indiana, "Mr Jones, your professor says you're interested in studying at my university?"

Indiana's heart rate rose as his eyes widened, "Yeah! I'd be really interested."

"Your skills as a linguist cannot be denied. I believe you could really benefit from a study of historical linguistics during your master's programme," a pause, "I believe your friend René will be studying the same. If it is finances that make you hesitant, I can put in a good word for our scholarship program..."

While a part of Indiana's brain was completely unenthused at the prospect of more study and academia, the forward parts of his brain reasoned that he had very little to fall back on if he decided to miss the opportunity. So, with a smile, he gave a grateful nod, "I'd be real honored, Doctor."

Johan stared cautiously at Anna as she sat on Marcus's couch, slowly licking away at a cone of vanilla ice cream. A makeshift neck brace stabilized her head and a bandage kept her nose together, the blood stained on it mixing with the sugary melt of ice cream that was being clumsily shoved into her mouth.

For the entire trip home, Anna had cried in such a pitiful and heart-wrenching way that it had made the two men viscerally uncomfortable in ways neither of them had experienced before. Johan had initially protested when Marcus sent his housekeeper out to get ice cream for the child, but Anna's repeated requests for the item as soon as the word had been mentioned made it hard for the zoologist to turn it down. Just as Marcus had predicted, the treat calmed the child as soon as it got into her forehooves.

Brief images flashed through Johan's head of Anna lying on a surgical bed, suffering from multiple organ failure as some component of the ice cream gathered and became toxic somewhere in her digestive system. Still, Marcus had claimed he'd been feeding her the stuff for the better part of a month, and she seemed to be suffering no ill effects. In fact, the zoologist was starting to fear it the sugar might have some form of addictive qualities.

Marcus Brody walked back in through the front door, causing Johan to turn his head. The curator held a bundle of letters, fresh from his mailbox in the building lobby. He promptly walked to his table, taking a letter opener from a nearby set of drawers.

Johan hummed, taking his eyes off of the other man and looking towards the floor, "Your carpet is torn, Brody."

"Yes. Anna dropped a chandelier on it on her first night here," Marcus muttered, sifting through his mail until he found something that seemingly caught his interest.

"Sie hat was getan?" Johan raised an eyebrow, turning to Marcus.

"Yes. She found the ornament a delightful thing to swing around on," Marcus chuckled, raising the aforementioned letter to the light to read the name on it, "...Huh. I must have forgotten to write him."

"Who?"

"Do you remember Henry Jones, Dr Richter?" Marcus asked, slicing through the top of the envelope with his opener, before strolling over back towards the lounge.

"...No?" Johan answered after a moment, sitting down next to Anna and watching as Marcus took his own seat on an armchair across from him.

"He's Indiana's father. Doctor of medieval literature?" Marcus reminded, taking out the letter within, "You met him in 1919."

"...I think I remember now, yes. We must have only met in passing," Johan nodded, "I didn't know they were related."

"You couldn't tell just by looking at them, I know," Marcus chuckled, before his smile slowly faded, "I haven't told him he's a grandfather, you know?"

Johan frowned. Surely such a close relative was well within the inner circle that could be fully disclosed about Anna, "Why not?"

"Him and Indiana... they're estranged," Marcus admitted, "Indiana ran off to war and never looked back. They always had their differences, but such an open rebellion... it really hurt Henry, especially because it came so soon after Anna died," a pause, before he clarified, "Anna's grandmother. They're namesakes."

"Ah," Johan nodded, "But... that doesn't explain why...?"

"Why I haven't at least told him?" Marcus asked. When Johan returned a nod, he continued, "Well, I don't think Indiana would approve very highly of Henry being a part of her life. Indiana might have been the one to abandon Henry during that fragile time, but... just the same during the War, Henry just wasn't there to comfort him when he came home. Apparently he failed to answer his war letters, too," Marcus folded the letter again, stowing it in his undershirt pocket for later, "I feel the need to tell him... but I would just feel terrible about going behind Indy's back like that."

Johan winced, "Gott..." a pause, punctuated by Anna beginning to chew on the wafer cone of her ice cream. For a moment, the zoologist considered his next words, "You know, when I first came to Chicago, it was all a very interesting science experiment. Just that, an interesting subject to study, poke, and prod. I didn't think I'd be... confided in about the family dynamics of an animal toddler."

Marcus smiled, nodding along, "I must admit, before these two months with her, I didn't really know what Indy saw in Anna. But, now... I mean, she's verbose, she's naughty sometimes, kind at others.. one night she had a bad dream and woke me up in the middle of the night for comfort..." Marcus gave a long, thoughtful look at Anna, who returned his eye contact as she got to the chocolate filling at the bottom of the cone, "She really just is a child... with wings and hooves."

Johan looked down at her as well, causing her to switch eye contact a few times between the two men, "I wonder what her society must be like."

"Whatever it is, it must be vastly secretive. Our hunters have turned up with nothing. I'm going to be cancelling their contracts next year, it's simply just too expensive," Marcus shook his head, "At this rate, I'm going to bleed myself dry trying to take care of Indy."

"Ah, don't worry Brody. The market's only continuing to boom," Richter smiled, "And you're not some stereotypical aristocrat. The fact that you work and have income puts you above many of your peers in terms of character. Many like you just spend their lives squandering their inheritance."

"Bah, I just do it for the history," Marcus waved a hand, a jovial smile on his face. He sobered quickly, though, as his eyes flashed up to Johan again, "But, what do you think? About Dr Jones?"

"I think he sounds like somebody who can be trusted to keep a secret," Johan shrugged, "If you are even considering trusting him in the first place, then it must be so. Just make it clear to him in your correspondence that if he wants to take part in his granddaughter's life, he must make things right between him and his son first."

"Henry is awfully stubborn. I'm afraid he won't be able to see the ways he's wronged his son," Marcus dismissed.

"Then you may need to be the one to police it. You know the pains both sides have felt, if everyone is willing, allow yourself to moderate," Johan advised, before reaching for his briefcase and standing, "I should go before it gets too dark out, Brody. Good night."

"Good night to you too, Dr Richter..." Marcus sighed. The door shut behind the zoologist, and as soon as the man looked back, Anna was gone from her seat, melted ice cream staining the couch cushions. She flew around above him, next to the stationary light fixture at the top of the stairs, experiencing a sugar rush as she flew cartwheels through the air, completely unphased by her crash.

Marcus Brody smiled. The right decision had been made, by both him and Indiana. He just needed to make sure the correct decisions continued to happen...

Author's Note

I am increasingly humbled by the complete lack of experience I have with writing children. I yearn for the days when I meet back up with my pre-written chapters and can deal with characters who all speak in full sentences.

Fun fact, the original draft of the plot started with Anna being a teenager. In the end, though, the amount of flashbacks I needed to insert just bogged the flow of the adventures down so I re-structured to have a chronological plot instead.

The very first draft also included Rainbow Dash as an audience perspective character.

10: Paris, 1923-1924

Indiana had not stayed in his house in Chicago for very long - he'd kept a rented apartment for longer. But, seeing the 'For Sale' sign come down on the front lawn and a 'Sold' sign put in its place put a pang in his heart as Marcus helped him load up his most important possessions in his car. The offer hadn't even been that great - he'd managed to sell at the perfect time to catch a down-curve in the property value. Still, he needed the money sooner rather than later, as travel to France would not wait for market value. With it, he believed he could at least afford a place where Anna could have her own space - though it might come at the cost of a yard.

The Joneses were not the only ones leaving the States. Brody's term with the University of Chicago had completed and productive deals with the National Museum had fallen through. The historian was set to return to his family estate in England for a while to find work with his old circles in the United Kingdom. He promised to visit once or twice a year, which would make him rather distant compared to Johan Richter, who would be arranging for travel every two months to meet his usual checkups.

Anna, meanwhile, was becoming more and more verbose. She loved to talk, and as she seemingly mastered more and more control over her mouth and vocal chords, she began to talk about all sorts of things with her father. Indiana had never been much of a chatterbox, which to his surprise only seemed to encourage her long, grammatically messy spiels as he smiled and nodded.

According to the books he had bought on parenthood, girls were more talkative than boys at a young age. While she had been a bit quieter and shy at the age of two, by the age of three she seemed to shed more and more of her inhibitions.

Unfortunately, in February of 1923, he found that Richard was still making his way down the West Coast aboard the Safe Travels, and thus couldn't come to see them off at the New York harbor. Indiana Jones promised to keep writing, and said that they would be back in America eventually, once Indy completed his studies. Studies that, at this point, could end with the end of his post-graduate studies at Sorbonne or continue on if he undertook the path to a dissertation and a doctorate.

Richard simply reminded him off his promise to grind Indiana down if he didn't get to meet Anna some day, before continuing to write about less threatening things.

Paris had changed quite a bit since he had last been as a boy. He had very briefly gone through the city in 1913, but most of his memories were still back when he was just nine years old and accompanying his father on a lecture tour. He remembered meeting some sort of crazy-but-amusing artist with a gun and an attitude. That had been back when he was into sketching... those were the days.

Now, there were automobiles everywhere, the fashion had changed, and the city was generally filled with a different kind of energy. The radio was becoming more and more common in the big cities. He'd seen them back in Chicago, which had its first radio stations in '21, and now Paris was experiencing the same sort of revolution. Big, chunky radio sets were in some upclass areas, broadcasting the latest tunes and the news to the public.

He briefly looked into how much the cost of a radio for himself would be. The price tag quickly turned him off with a nauseated gag.

He found himself a good lease on a two-bedroom apartment within biking distance to the University of Paris (which was the official name of Sorbonne). The lease would last just the correct amount of time, and had pleasantly low ceilings - no high spaces or gaps that Anna could escape him in. Of course, a lack of a yard for her to fly around in would surely drive her stir-crazy, but for that Indiana simply just had to commit to finding a good babysitter and taking her out to the park as frequently as he could.

A telegram sent forward had gotten him in contact with Belloq, the French student from the Egypt expedition. As soon as the place was presentable, Indiana invited him over, just a week before the first semester began.

The front door of the apartment swung open, revealing a young man dressed in a white coat-jacket, pants, and a blue undershirt. He wore a hat that matched his coat, a hat that Indiana recognized as being the same one he had worn to the dig in Egypt.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Jones!" Belloq greeted, sticking out his hand.

"Enchanté de vous rencontrer. J'espère que mes indications ne vous ont pas posé de problème," Indiana replied in accented French, before stepping aside, "Come in. Sorry for the mess, I'm still unpacking."

"Ce n'est pas un problème," Belloq replied, stepping in and taking off his hat, hanging it next to Indy's fedora on the rack by the door, "You have found yourself a good place, it seems!"

Indiana pushed the door closed behind his friend, "It was expensive, but the lease lasted two years. Just what I needed to get to graduation, pretty much."

"Very good proximity to most of the important parts of the city, too," René nodded, "Probably why the prices were jacked up, non?"

"Yeah, probably-"

"Daaaaaaaad! I think I sawh a- a- a big thing in the kitchen!" Anna called from around a corner, before walking around it on all corners and stopping, staring up at René, wide-eyed. The man in question stared back with just the same amount of curiosity, which seemed to be perturb Anna even more.

"Anna, this is René Belloq," Indiana introduced, placing his hands on his hips, "He's daddy's good friend, alright? I met him in Egypt."

Anna continued to stare, before slowly shuffling backwards around the corner.

"What do you say to René, Anna? You say 'Hi René'?" Indiana firmly suggested.

"Hi Renee," Anna muttered.

"Good to meet you, Anna Jones," René offered in return, giving a smile and a nod. With that, Anna seemed to take the excuse to shuffle backwards around the corner. No sooner was she in sight than the sound of cardboard rustling and luggage tumbling came as she no doubt went back to playing with the discarded packing equipment.

"You said you found her in Panama?" René asked, looking over to Indiana with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," he shrugged, "We sent hunters to try and find more of her, but no luck."

"Interesting. I would've thought she would have originated from Greece, what with the, erh, wings and all..." Belloq observed, before shaking his head and reaching over to pat Indiana on the shoulder, "I am going to show you all the good times to be had in Paris, Mr Jones. And, I'm thinking, on our break we should take a trip to my family vineyard."

"Your family owns a vineyard?" Indiana asked.

"Where do you think all that wine I had in Egypt came from, Indy? I certainly wasn't buying local!" René gave uproarious laughter, raising his hand off of Indiana's shoulder before bringing it down again in a slap, "It will be good to get you away from all that prohibition nonsense in America! I cannot imagine being dry like that!"

"I really shouldn't be drinking myself into a stupor. I gotta take care of Anna through the evening, and the study..." Indiana trailed off.

René gave him an insulted look, "Drinking yourself into a stupor!? Someone clearly has not learned to properly enjoy wine! Do you think I graduated with honors last year by drinking myself to death every night? Bah! Besides, you know what they say in America about Jack and working without play?"

"Aaalright, well as long as it doesn't interfere with anything important," Indiana acquiesced. Having someone to show him around the city did sound like a good time.

Indiana and Belloq were fast friends. Between classes, work, and taking care of Anna, Indiana had found himself completely unable to have a good time. Belloq just had a certain charisma to him, and the fact that he paid for most of their outings especially helped. Even despite his initial reservations, Belloq had turned out to be fairly respectful of Indiana's time, sometimes moving an outing to be a dinner-at-home where Indiana could watch Anna while spending time with Belloq.

Studies progressed nominally. He still suffered from the usual things - lack of sleep, a busy schedule working part-time as an entry-level translator to help make ends meet, and taking care of Anna as best as possible. After much struggle, he also found a babysitter for Anna - the housewife of a veteran who was strapped for cash, and thus willing to engage with a strange child in exchange for a living wage.

Richter would take trips to France, usually being on his way through to Germany. His family were ailing under the effects of the post-war economy, and he was doing whatever he could to support them. Indiana felt remorse, having been a part of the conflict that caused the despoilment, but when brought up all Johan did was shrug. It was what it was.

Belloq got the opportunity to briefly meet Johan on a few of his visits. They apparently shared an interest in birds and discussed at length about Anna's wing anatomy.

In the summer of 1923, Belloq made good on his promise to take Indiana to his vineyard. They travelled by train from Paris to Marseilles, where the Joneses got treated to wonderful scenery of expansive, green fields, and the French Southern Coast. The ocean sparkled out of the right window of the train as it chuffed down the coast towards the city proper.

"Atlantic!" Anna confidently said, pointing to the window.

Indiana chuckled, before shaking his head and correcting, "No, Anna. That's the Mediterranean," he explained, before reaching into the gap between the seats and pulling out a map. With a marker stowed in his pocket, he began to sketch on the map, "We started here in New York, see?"

Anna watched with wide eyes as Indiana circled the city on the map, before drawing a long, red line across the ocean.

"Then, we went across the Atlantic Ocean to France," Indiana tapped the relevant names on the map, "And went to Paris. But now we're going down south to this ocean right here," he continued the line from Paris towards Southern France, "This is a difference ocean, see? This is the Mediterranean. Just over the ocean is Egypt, that's where daddy went to dig for treasure."

Anna looked between the map and the window, then back at the lines and the names. She had the beginnings of the ability to comprehend the written word, but still wasn't there yet. Still, eventually, some understanding came to her eyes.

She pointed out towards the sea, "Egypt there?"

"That's the Mediterranean, honey," Indiana corrected.

"Nuh-uh!" Anna wiggled her hoof at the window insistently, "Egypt across the Mediterranean!"

"Oh," Indiana blinked in surprise, "Yeah, yeah it is."

Anna stared down her hoof at the window for a moment, before her ears eventually fell flat against her head, "...I dunna see it."

"It's too far away for you to see," Indiana explained, a smile growing on his face.

"...Why?" Anna asked, before immediately adding, "Can we go to Egypt, daddy?"

"Maybe someday."

She pouted, "...I want to go to Egypt."

Indiana's mind drifted towards Marion and Abner Ravenwood. About her complaints about the heat and the sun. The strangest sensation came over him as he found himself relating to the old, gray archaeologist. Yet, despite its foreignness, it was a warm feeling, one that he embraced as he wrapped an arm around her and promised, "Some day, Anna. Some day."

The Joneses arrived at the Belloq estate, a charming, old manor with an expansive vineyard extending from its back. The entire property, while not exactly royal in its opulence, was clearly the product of several generations of success and wealth. Definitely enough to stir jealousy in Indiana's heart as he stepped out of the taxi, Anna hopping out right behind him.

René met them at the gates, wearing an outfit almost identical to the one he'd worn into the city, the white cloth somehow managing not to get dirty. He welcomed them in, and introduced him to some of his family. His father paid Indiana little heed, and his mother gave them a generous showing of hospitality. René explained that he had some siblings, but that most of them were older and had either moved away or were busy continuing the family business.

Anna quickly became the subject of much curiosity from the family and staff, though it seemed her shyness to others aside from her father and Brody was slowly being trained out of her. In fact, it was getting to the point where Indiana feared that the attention was going to get to her head. She puffed out her chest as she maneuvered through the air, causing those watching to giggle and cheer with amusement. Once or twice, Indiana had to discourage them giving her treats, as it was almost encouraging a circus animal-like behaviour that disturbed him greatly.

At one point, while Indiana let Anna out to fly around from the end of her rope, René walked with him.

"It must be great, to be able to fly like that," Belloq commented, giving a brief point up towards Anna, "See the countryside arrayed out underneath you."

"Mhh.." Indiana grunted half-heartedly, adjusting his grip on the rope.

"You seem vexed about something. You've seemed more melancholic in general recently, my friend," he asked, placing his hands in his pockets as they strolled.

"More of the usual," Indiana admitted, "It's the money. I've got a lot of debt stacking up," he sighed, "Taking care of Anna prevented me from getting enough work in to keep up with my bills, and now I'm just thinking... I can't put her in a school. You know what kids are like, they'll tear her apart and she won't learn anything. The only way to go is to get a private tutor..."

"And that will cost quite a sum more than even a private school," Belloq nodded with understanding.

"Yeah. That and... I think to really go all the way into archaeology I need to go for a doctorate, which means I need to go do a dissertation.. which will cost even more money, and also eat up even more time... I just don't think I can afford to do it, but I really need the stability something like a tenure would give me," Indiana muttered, voice low as he kept his head turned away from Belloq, partly in shame, partly to keep his eyes on Anna.

Belloq, however, kept his eyes straight ahead, "You will be a great archaeologist, Indiana. We both will be. I can see we share a similar set of skills..." a pause, before Belloq slowly withdrew a hand from his pocket and laid it over Indiana's shoulders, "I would not demean you by offering you my charity, Indiana Jones. But.. perhaps we may be able to help each other out."

Indiana's eyes finally turned towards René, eyebrow quirked.

"I have some contacts in the antiquity market," René said, voice unusually low, "My family has a bit of a history with archaeology, you see. These contacts, they offer a very good rate for certain artefacts with so little historical significance that museums would not even give them a second look."

Indiana frowned, "You're not talking something like grave robbing, are you?"

"No, no!" Belloq laughed, shaking his head emphatically and wiggling and index finger, "You think too little of me, Indiana. These are things more like... genuine carvings from isolated tribes that you can buy for a few shiny baubles and resell. Lost items of relatives, old model ships, things you'd find in an antique store for twenty francs that some aristocrat will buy for five hundred.

"The Belloq family is a noble name, so our contacts will buy anything from us if it can be spun as mysterious or exotic," René patted Indiana's right shoulder, "I've never done it before, but my uncle has done it many times in the past. It's good money, and you need the money. I think if we can work together, we can get it done very easily this winter in the break."

Indiana Jones grimaced, keeping his eyes on René as he ran a free thumb down his jawline, "Where would be going?"

"Not sure yet, but there's an isolated tribe in the Amazon that I hear has gold burial ceremonies. It would take some doing to get to them, since nobody knows their exact location, but I think we could do it with enough research and the right guides," Belloq raised a finger, "And before you ask, we wouldn't be taking gold from the corpses. They don't have the same value for gold as we do, so we would bring along some trade goods and have a fair exchange then resell their products. If we can find things they carved and knapped themselves, we can sell it on as ancient goods from a lost civilization or something. If it turns out the myths are all shit, we can turn in their location for some credit in the field."

"I dunno, that sounds more like scamming them," Indiana pointed out, "And any of their cultural products should be studied by scientists, not sold off."

"They can just make more!" Belloq scoffed, throwing a hand into the air, "Come on, Indy. I wouldn't do it without you, but it sounds like you could really use the profit. I'll even give you sixty percent, you're more experienced with the jungle than me so you'll probably be more useful than I. Think about Anna, is telling a few white lies to some natives on the other side of the world really worth putting her future in jeopardy?"

Indiana looked up at Anna once again. Belloq was right, he did really need the money. It sounded like it would be hard work, trying to collate information and trek through the Amazon - the mother of all deadly rainforests - to try and find natives they hardly knew anything about. Did the fact that it was hard make it better? Was it morally wrong to begin with? Did the fact that it was for a good cause balance it out?

...He really wanted the peace of mind of having his accounts at least being put closer to being zeroed out.

"...Sure, sounds like it's worth a shot," Indiana eventually muttered.

In his heart, though, he hoped the gold was a myth.

The gold was not a myth.

Indiana sprinted, arms pumping as he charged through the rainforest. Arrows and blowdarts whizzed by him, hitting trees and brush as he jumped, vaulted and ducked thorugh the foliage. On his back, a sack full of gold and silver idols, raw nuggets, and ceremonial carvings thumped up and down with every step. A few paces behind him, René Belloq ran for his life as well, making the mistake of looking over his shoulder every once in a while and stumbling constantly.

"They're catching up, Indy!" René screamed, clothes tearing on a thornbush that Indiana pushed through with the help of his leather jacket.

"I've got a plan! Head for the ravine!" Indiana shouted back, reaching up to clutch his fedora as he made a turn, a spear bouncing off of a nearby boulder mere inches away from his face.

As it had turned out, most of the tribe they were trying to contact had ended up being unfriendly, extremely wary of europeans. However, they had gotten an in - as it turned out, some of them still traded in secret with travellers. Likely thieves themselves, they offered gilded items from their village in return for the guns and bullets Jones and Belloq had brought with them.

However, it seemed their leaders came to bust up the operation. Just after the trade had taken place, warriors ambushed them, killing their guide and several of the thieves before chasing them off into the jungle.

The ravine opened up ahead of them. To get to the village, they had to take a hike for several miles to circumvent the opening in the earth. If they tried to retrace their steps while being chased, they would no doubt run out of stamina long before the warriors, who were experienced in running through the jungle on foot, would do the same. Without missing a beat, Indiana threw his pouch of loot towards Belloq, who tripped and fell backwards as the item smacked him in his face.

Indiana unlimbered his whip, striking the high branch of a tree growing just next to the ravine. Carrying his momentum from his sprint, he clung for dear life as he swung across, planting his feet on the other side with a gasp.

"DON'T YOU LEAVE ME HERE JONES!" Belloq screamed from the other side, the bag in his hands.

Indiana had not, in fact, intended to make it seem like he was abandoning René on the wrong side of the ravine. He couldn't have made the swing with the gold weighing him down. Rolling his eyes, Indiana threw the handle of his whip back towards Belloq, shouting, "Throw me the gold! You won't make it with it!"

René caught the whip, looking up and down it with shock, then looking down to his bag, then back up towards Indiana. The hollering of the natives grew louder in the jungle behind him.

"No time to argue! Throw me the gold and then swing across!" Indiana insisted, holding out his arms towards his companion.

Belloq shook his head in disbelief, before heaving the gold towards Indiana. The thornbushes behind him began to boil with the approaching warriors, urging him to quickly wind up and run into a swing across the canyon. He very nearly didn't make it, and was caught by his collar by Indiana, who held the bag with his other hand.

Throwing Belloq to the ground behind him, Indiana grabbed his whip and undid it just as an arrow, shot in a slight panic by the natives on the other side, clipped the brim of his hat. Scrambling up a bluff, Indiana and Belloq dove behind the cover of a natural earthen embankment just as another hail of projectiles impacted the dirt behind them.

For a moment, they both sat, crushed vegetation under their bodies and the angered shouts of the local dialect coming from behind them. Their lungs burned, their blood was more parts adrenaline than iron, and Indiana nearly felt nauseous with exertion. René coughed a few times, holding a hand up to his chest.

"We... made... it," Indiana said between gasps of breath.

"I told you we'd get some excitement on this journey," Belloq chuckled, rolling over to look down at the sack of gold lying between them. Undoing the buckle holding the lid down, he took out one of the pieces, gold sparkling in his eyes.

"I'm not sure. I'd still prefer Ravenwood's expedition to Egypt. There wasn't anything trying to kill us there aside from the sun," Indiana commented, a mirthful smile erupting on his lips.

René wiggled the object - a golden plate - at him indicatively, "We didn't make this much of a payday in Egypt, monsieur! Just like I promised. Forty for me, sixty for you," he stuck out his hand, a grin growing on his lips.

The smile was infectious, and Indiana's face grew a similar expression as he reached out and took Belloq's hand.

"Now, let's get back to the boat before they find a way around that ravine..." René sighed, replacing the plate in the bag and re-buckling the lid.

Aside from a case of jungle fever from Belloq, and a much more minor case of the same sickness from Indy, their return to civilization was triumphant. The cheque Indiana received from their winnings more than made up for the slightly unscrupulous nature of their quest - after all, the items had already been stolen. If those thieves hadn't sold it to them, they would've just sold it so someone else!

"Uncle Brody!" Anna shouted, running across the lounge towards the Englishman in question as soon as the door opened.

"Oh it's the birthday girl!" Marcus said, a large smile on his face as he crouched to accept the filly as she rushed into his arms, "How are we doing?"

Indiana came in behind Marcus Brody, closing the door for them both. As the latter man began to take his coat off, Indiana took it from him, a smile on his face as his gaze lingered on his daughter as she talked to Marcus.

"We went to France!" Anna said enthusiastically.

Marcus blinked, "You, erh, you are in France."

"Uh huh! And we went to France! From America! Across the Atlantic Ocean!" Anna nodded.

Indiana took off his own jacket and hung it up next to Marcus's one, "She's technically right, Marcus."

"And last yesterday we went to park and I catch a bird!" Anna raised her forehooves in the air, before lowering them as her ears flopped along with them, "...But daddy made me put it away because it was belegheghghe!"

"Very impressive!" Marcus chuckled.

"Last week, honey," Indiana corrected, "That was last week."

Anna looked at him dumbly, before eventually saying, "Can we have cake?" Her ears perked at that.

"Yes, we can have cake after dinner," Indiana said.

Marcus sniffed the air as he reached into a pocket of his coat from where it hung on the rack, "Done some cooking, Indy?"

"I figure if there's any time to learn cooking, it's while I'm in Paris," Indiana shrugged, "I made some pasta."

Marcus gave him a queer look, "But... pasta is Italian?"

"I couldn't figure out ratatouille in time, okay?" Indiana said, picking up an oven mitt that he had left on a nearby table and slipping it on.

"It's french pasta!" Anna said, fluttering her wings and jumping up onto a nearby chair, "Presents!"

"Not yet!" Indiana shouted from the kitchen, kneeling down and opening the oven... to the very comforting sounds of coughing and sizzling.

Marcus Brody gave an amused look in the direction of the archway that lead into the kitchen, before he sat down across from Anna at the table. Placing his briefcase down next to him, he clasped his hands in front of him and caught Anna's eye, "How's my favorite niece doing?"

"Daddy went Brazil!" Anna said, continuing her enthusiasm.

"...Did he now?" Marcus asked, looking once again towards the kitchen with curiosity. This was the first time he'd heard of it.

"Yeah! He said he get..." Anna clearly struggled to find the words, so instead started making noises that sounded vaguely like arrows whizzing past as she flurried her hooves, "With Mr Belloq!"

"Indy! Is that true?" Marcus asked, raising his voice.

"Huh!?" Indiana shouted back from the kitchen.

"Did you go to Brazil this year!?" Marcus shouted.

"Oh! Yeah! Me and Belloq went to research some native peoples! Made a lot of money too!" Indiana said back, the sounds of cutlery and plates coming as the sizzling finally ceased, "Things are looking up!"

Marcus hummed, "That sounds great! Why didn't you tell me?"

Indiana came around the corner from the kitchen with plates of what seemed like lasagna - though the edges were black as coal and an almost soapy smell came from it. The man shrugged as he placed the plates on the table, "I dunno. Never crossed my mind, I guess."

"Well it sounds very exciting," Marcus noted, looking down at the sour excuse for lasagna on his plate with trepidation, "Erh- wh-what society did you do it with?"

Anna's face fell, once again long with her ears, as she gazed at the meal in front of her. She sniffed at it, before giving a huff that sounded almost exactly like a horse's whinny.

"It was more of an independent endeavour," Indiana shrugged, fearlessly stabbing into the oozing slab of overcooked pasta on his plate, "Belloq funded most of it. His family's rich."

"Oh. Well- you must've had your research peer-reviewed, though," Marcus said, poking his 'meal' and withdrawing his fork to examine the off-green material that had been impaled on the end.

Indiana paused for a moment, slicing off a piece of his own cooking and filling his mouth with it to buy himself time. Marcus wasn't the most perceptive man, but even he could tell Indiana was trying his best to come up with a lie, "...I didn't really publish any research," Indiana admitted, "We ended up just trading for some stuff and selling to private collectors."

"Oh," Marcus blinked, "How much did it all sell for?"

"Daaaaadyyy..." Anna suddenly said, spitting out a piece of the lasagna.

"That's a bit personal, don't you think?" Indiana said, not giving a glance towards Anna.

"Daaaaddyyyyy!" Anna repeated.

"Well, I was just curious. I've never really heard of an archaeological expedition ending in such a way-" Marcus began, but was interrupted by another complaint from Anna.

"DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY!" Anna repeated, slamming her forehooves into the top of the table.

Indiana responded with a firm hand gripped to one of her forelegs, "Manners, Anna! Were you raised in a stable?"

"Horses go in stables!" Anna shouted back.

"Yeah and you aren't one. What do you want? Do you want your food cut up?" Indiana asked, reaching for the knife sitting next to her plate.

"Why food so bad!?" Anna shouted.

"Use your inside voice, Anna," Marcus interjected, using the distraction to take a slice of his lasagna and shove it inside his briefcase.

"It's not bad. Eat, or you won't get any ice cream cake," Indiana ordered, beginning to slice through Anna's lasagna.

"Are you sure this Belloq fellow is legitimate?" Marcus asked, leaning forward and trying to fix Indiana's attention, "It sounds like this expedition was rather.. unscientific."

"What do you mean? My expedition to Panama was pretty unscientific too," Indiana muttered, trying to avoid Marcus's gaze by chopping up Anna's food.

"Yes but you always intended to give whatever you found to a museum," Marcus tilted his head, "...And I was disapproving of you going on your own, without the support of a university or society."

"Yet if I had waited for them I would've taken months or maybe even years more, and by then those gangsters would've pillaged the ruins and moved on, maybe even with Anna in tow. She'd probably be some plaything for some rich crime lord or something," Indiana said, getting unusually flustered as he leaned away from Marcus back into his seat.

"Whaaaat?" Anna looked up from her still-untouched food with confusion.

"That's anecdotal, Indiana. There's plenty of stories of foolhardy explorers going into jungles and-" Marcus paused, before shaking his head, "This isn't even the point. You sold to a private buyer... and- I've never, in my entire life, heard of any kind of scientific expedition making money."

"Listen, we went in looking to do some research, we found some things to trade with the locals for, and we left in the green. Enough money for me to finally pay back the oldest of my loans. Nobody got hurt, honest!" Indiana said, before looking down at Marcus's half of his lasagna, "At least someone's eating!"

Anna took another cautious bite, before spitting it out and shaking her head vigorously, greyscale mane tossing around her shoulders.

Marcus Brody gave Indiana a long, uneasy look, before eventually shrugging and saying, "Very well, I believe you. I don't want to bring a bad atmosphere to Anna's birthday."

"Daaadyyy! I don't want any!" Anna insisted, pushing her plate back and making the flakes of the diseased meal on it bounce as it slid across the table.

Indiana, seemingly calming down at Marcus's words, finally took a sniff of his own lasagna and frowned, "Why does it smell soapy?"

"I have absolutely no clue," Marcus spoke in total honesty.

"I'll let you get away with it this once, on your birthday," Indiana said, patting Anna on the head and taking both his and her plate back to the kitchen.

Marcus opened his briefcase, reaching inside and retrieving a gift-wrapped package from inside. After shaking off the gluey remains of the half of his meal that had fallen onto it, Marcus smiled and held it out towards Anna, who leapt into the and grabbed the gift.

Marcus kept a hold of the gift for long enough for Indiana to notice and scold from the kitchen archway, "What do you say, Anna!"

She stayed silent for a moment, looking at him as she crinkled the wrapping with her iron, mysteriously magnetic grip.

"What're the magic words, Anna?" Indiana probed, tilting his head towards her in a stern look.

Anna lowered her head in a way that only one with equine anatomy could, "...Thank Uncle Marcus..." she said in a voice that was almost louder than a whisper.

"You're very welcome, Anna," Marcus said, finally letting go of the gift with a bemused smile.

She tore into it at a fever pitch, allowing pieces of ribbon and wrapping to fly across the room. It was a heavy gift, and everybody knew that heavy gifts were the best kinds of gifts! Inside was a cardboard box that contained a pair of brand new binoculars - made out of the lightest materials he could find that still promised some endurance. She looked at it, at first confused.

"Those are binoculars," Marcus said, picking them up and holding them to his eyes, "Look through them like this."

Anna curiously took them, the weight forcing her to land. Clumsily, she held the wrong side up to her eyes... and closed her eyes. With some help, she turned them around and looked at them the right way around.

"Whoaaaaaahhh..." she said as she began to look around the room. Though, soon, the weight became too much, and she toppled over backwards, hitting the ground with a squeak as the binoculars thudded onto the carpet.

Some tears of pain later, and Anna was restored to her seat and in front of an ice cream cake. Johan Richter had, after several exposures to puppy-dog eyes, made the assumption that if ice cream and chocolate were truly toxic to her, she'd have shown symptoms or died by now. Ever since Indiana had failed to find a proper cake last year, in the fuss of moving to France, and instead just slapped a bunch of ice cream together and called it a cake, Anna had been requesting the same for her next birthday.

Indiana definitely wasn't going to fuss. He wasn't completely blind to his lack of skill in a kitchen, and after watching his lasagna stick to the ceramic plate like glue he became glad he didn't have to try and bake a cake.

"Only two more years and Anna will be old enough to start her education!" Marcus said, gladly trading his half-'eaten' lasagna for the ice cream, "Are you excited to go to school, Anna?"

"What's school?" Anna asked, muzzle smeared in white, foamy melted ice cream.

"School is where some children go to learn things, like how to read," Indiana explained briefly to his daughter, before turning his head to answer Marcus's question, "She's not going to go to a school. She'll have to have a private tutor."

"Oh you're probably wise in that," Marcus nodded, "Kids can be so cruel, especially to those who stand out."

"I want to go to school..." Anna muttered.

"Your daddy didn't go to school," Indiana said, patting her on the head, "She had a private tutor named Miss Seymour..." he trailed off, and eventually frowned.

Marcus looked up from his ice cream, "You never told me what happened to your tutor, Indiana. You two were close, weren't you? I tried looking her up while I was in Oxford, out of curiosity."

"She's dead," Indiana said in a clipped tone.

"She's wha?" Anna asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry Indy," Marcus said, wincing.

"Last time I talked to her was before the War, and she told me I should try and make things up with my father," Indiana muttered, "Then she got influenza and..."

"Infooenza," Anna scrunched her muzzle as her brain processed the unfamiliar word.

"She was right, you know," Marcus frowned, "You really should tell Henry about Anna. He deserves to at least know."

Those words left Marcus's lips with a pang of guilt. Henry already knew, perhaps not everything, just that Indiana had an adoptive daughter and was struggling. Clearly, Henry Jones, Senior, had not taken Marcus's advice on attempting to rebuild his relationship with his son, judging by Indiana's upcoming reaction.

He shook his head firmly, "I deserved to get my war letters answered, Marcus. I deserved to have somebody there for-" he cut himself and gave an exasperated sigh, "Why am I unloading all of this on you? Sorry, I'm fine."

"Daddy, are you okay?" Anna asked, swallowing the last spoonful of her ice cream, "And more?"

"No more," said Indiana with a shake of his head, grabbing a napkin and wiping Anna's muzzle, "You'll give yourself a tummy-ache. Time for Daddy's gift, okay?"

While initially disappointed at Indiana's refusal of her request, Anna brightened at the mention of more presents. Her ears perked along with it, "Presents!"

"I've got something from Johan as well," Indiana said, walking towards a closet and opening it, reaching to the middle shelf and grabbing two gifts and a small slip of paper, "Even Richard gave you a card."

"How thoughtful of him!" Marcus renewed his smile, watching as Indiana walked back over with his handful of gifts.

"Look at the card first, he drew you a pretty picture," Indiana said, redirecting Anna's hooves - which were reaching out towards the presents - and placing the gift inside of it.

Anna gave a cursory glance at the card, before looking back up at Indiana and pointing at it, "Ship!"

Indiana nodded with a smile, and turned the card towards Marcus. The curator squinted his eyes and leaned forward to examine the card. On it was a hand-drawn, miniature painting of a steamship moving through a great ocean. The waves were beautifully illustrated, foam licking off of their edges, and puffy white steam coming off of the smokestack. The caption read "Happy Birthday Anna - 'They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the LORD, and his wonders in the deep' Psalms 107:24-25."

"Mr Simons is quite the artist!" Marcus noted with amazement.

"He apparently discovered his talent fairly recently," Indiana nodded, folding up the card before turning his attention towards Anna, "Richard says happy birthday, Anna. Remember Richard? From America?"

"America, across the Atlantic!" Anna said, reaching once again for the closest present - the one from Dr. Richter.

"That's from Uncle Johan," Indiana pointed to the tag on the wrapping as Anna tore it apart.

"Thank you Ohan!" Anna said as she tore into the ribbon with her teeth.

"What a polite lady, thanking people not even in the room!" Marcus chuckled.

Johan Richter's gifts were of assorted toys. Carved birds with hinged wings, and a small horse with wheels on its legs and a string for pulling it along. While Indiana thought the last toy was in slightly poor taste, Anna seemed to love it, immediately reaching up to bop it on its wooden nose. She was nearly consumed in immediately playing with her toys, but her attention was redirected towards her final present.

"This one is from daddy," Indiana said, a proud smile on his face as he folded his arms and looked down on his gift - a shoddily-wrapped rectangular prism.

"Thanks daddy!" Anna repeated, though seemed slightly disappointed when her previous show's laughter never came, and repeated louder, "THANKS DADDY!"

With a single chuckle, Indiana ruffled her mane, "You're welcome."

Scrunching her muzzle, Anna ripped apart the wrapping and revealed the book within. Gold text on the front read, "WORLD ATLAS". It was an adult release from a respected society.

"Isn't she a bit... young for an atlas?" Marcus commented.

Anna, however, defied expectations when she opened the book and immediately widened her eyes as she began to examine the maps within. Indiana began to ball up the discarded gift wrapping, "She's really fascinated with maps, for some reason. She can't really read yet, but she's starting to learn. I just think she likes the colors or something."

"How unusual!" Marcus hummed, looking towards Anna and asking, "Are you going to become a cartographer when you grow up?"

"Nuh-uh! I'm gonna become an arkakalologist so that I can go to school and look at books like daddy! And go Egipt!" Anna responded.

She smiled as she, once again, caused both men to break out into laughter.

Author's Note

Indiana Jones and the Great Circle is a good game.

I am now considering how destructive it would be and how much of my life it would consume to write it in. I'd actually appreciate some thoughts about it.

...It's even in the perfect time for Anna to come along with him on it, dammit.

11: Pacific Ocean, 1925-1926

The cork exploded from the top of the bottle, bouncing off the ceiling and clattering to the floor as foam bubbled over its neck. It dribbled down over Belloq's hands as he walked over to the table, a wide smile on his face as he poured Indiana a glass, filling his cup at the same time.

"To our graduations!" Indiana said, raising his glass as Belloq sat down and reciprocated.

"And to our futures," René added as the glasses clinked off of each other.

"Speaking of futures..." Indiana began, pausing to take a sip, before continuing, "...Planning on going for your doctorate?"

"Of course. You?"

"If I can get the money for it," Indiana leaned back into his seat, tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair, "The last haul was good. Kept my creditors happy. But I don't think anyone's going to lend me enough to start on my doctoral program. Marcus got me an in with some guys at Oxford, I can even get a part time teaching job there, but I still gotta pay for the tuition.

"I think one more haul into the jungle we can get it, easy. I'd just need forty percent this time, and we already have the trails charted-" Indiana trailed off at Belloq's reaction.

Shaking his head, his friend held up a hand to stay Indy, "No, no, no, we can't. When they looked into the disappearance of our guide, information came out and now there's probably a thousand people trying the same grift. We were lucky we got in when we did, but the well's dry now."

"Fuck," Indiana rolled his head back, "Do they know it was us?"

"That's why we used aliases, Indiana," Belloq reminded, "You had said it 'felt wrong' at the time. Aren't you glad now?"

"...It still doesn't feel right," Indiana admitted.

"Well!" Belloq leaned forward, "There is something else we could probably get into. I thought you might be a bit busy to come along, what with your lease ending soon, but..." René pursed his lips, "We are in contact with the family of some old, French sailors back from the Napoleonic period. They want us to do some finding for them so that we can retrieve some belongings and antiques their ancestors had."

Indiana straightened up, taking another sip from his champagne, "Tell me more."

"Well, the sailors were part of the crew of a French privateer," René said, leaning in even further, "During the war, they captured an English vessel and recovered a substantial amount of gold and treasure. The value of their cargo and tensions on board caused the crew to mutiny. They cast their officers adrift in a boat and continued sailing on. The English were angry at them, so was the French Empire - who eclipsed the entire continent at that point. So, they sailed to a remote island with a native tribe on it, integrated with them...

"Chances are the treasure is still there somewhere. The client wants us try and trace where the ship ended up, find their resting places and recover their bones to take back to the family mausoleum. As for any gold we may happen to find... we can simply underreport how much we actually obtain," Belloq grinned, shaking a finger at Indiana, "And you can even bring Anna along with us. We'll be spending a lot of our time on a ship, so I imagine it will be easy to take care of her there."

Indiana, however, shook his head, "I don't want to drag her along on this. It could be dangerous."

Belloq's gave a shrug, "Dangerous because of what? It's a safe job. Maybe not easy, but safer than our trip into the jungle."

"I'd rather just have Marcus keep her," Indiana insisted, "Would free me up to work harder, anyway."

"I don't mind at all," Belloq shook his head, "Besides, will Dr Brody really be available for the amount of time we'll be away?"

"...How long will we be away?" Indiana asked, uncertain.

"It could be any amount of time. Three, five months, maybe more?" Belloq shrugged, "I don't know. I ensure you, we'll have a steamship and a crew, anything less and we won't be able to haul everything back to the mainland. You trusted her to be on a passenger ship, right? It's not like we're going to hire pirates to carry us."

Just one more job, cleaner than the one that came before it. Then, he could settle into a teaching life with a large enough salary to pay all his expenses and start on his debts. He gave a slow nod, "Sounds good."

Over the next several months, travel was prepared. Any possessions Indiana wished to keep from Paris apartment were boxed up and shipped to Marcus for safekeeping, while the rest was sold off. From there, it was a trip back to Western France, a ship, and a trip to the Panama Canal to head towards the Pacific. Of course, thoughts about the last time he was in Panama immediately prompted Indiana to wire ahead, getting in contact with Richard.

The ship was on schedule to dock there about the same time that the Safe Travels did. And, fortunately for all involved, the trip across the Atlantic met very few delays.

Anna followed, bright eyed and curious, as Indiana walked down the gangway to the port. They had a day until traffic cleared enough for the ship to proceed through the Panama Canal into the Pacific, which left just enough time for Indiana to reintroduce his daughter again to someone. Someone who was waiting by a familiar steamer about a thirty minutes' walk away.

Richard was staring straight out over the waters, back against a stack of wooden crates until the sound of Indiana's voice seemed to snap him out of his reverie. A toothy smile spread across his lips as he turned towards the father and daughter approaching him.

"Anna. This is Richard. You know Richard, right? He's the guy who sent you all those nice cards?" Indiana said, keeping an eye on Anna as he extended a hand out towards the other man.

"Hi..." Anna mumbled, staring at Richard nervously.

"The last time I saw you, you could fit right in my hands," Richard said, placing his hands on his hips, "Now look at you, you come up to your father's knees."

"She's growing pretty fast. The doctor believes she'll probably cap out about..." Indiana placed a hand near his stomach, "Here."

"The German doctor?" Richard asked, gesturing Indiana to follow as they walked for a nearby bench.

"Uncle Johan..." Anna muttered.

"Dr Richter. He's a zoologist," Indiana confirmed, "Been doing things like taking measurements, tracking her development, all sorts of things. He came off as sort of creepy when I first met him, but really he's just a very dedicated scientist. Even bought her gifts and stuff."

"And he was the one who told you Anna was intelligent?" Richard asked.

"I... more or less figured that one out on my own," Indiana admitted with a dry chuckle, "When she started talking and all..."

"Daaaaaaad..." Anna suddenly spoke up.

"Hmm?"

"It's hot," Anna said.

"Poor kid. It was winter back in France, and I think her coat grew in a bit thicker. The heat in the tropics is already bad enough," Indiana said, waving a hand near his neck to stimulate some air flow, "Have you been drinking your water Anna?"

"Mhm..."

"Don't lie."

"Mhm!"

"Good girl."

Richard was the first to arrive at the bench, sitting down and patting the seat next to him, "What brings you back to Panama, Indy?"

"Work," Indiana sat down next to him. Anna placed her forehooves on his knees, prompting him to reach out and help her up onto his lap, "My friend Belloq is out right now talking to a client. We're doing some research into finding some old pirate bones. I'm hoping with the money I make, I can fund the tuition for my doctoral studies. Then from there it's just... teaching. Getting grants to do research, making a stable living. Buy a house somewhere, give Anna more attention, start paying back my debts..."

"Pirate bones? Sounds exciting. Personally, I'm out of a job," Richard sighed, placing his hands on his knees and leaning back onto the bench, "They went ahead and did it, Indy. Safe Travels is a rum runner now."

"Man. I'd almost forgotten about all of that stuff," Indiana's eyes went down towards the concrete below them. A hand idly stroked down Anna's back and up her exposed neck, causing her ears to twitch, "What're you going to do now?"

"Try and get rehired on another ship," Richard shook his head mournfully, "I considered keeping on with the Travels until I reached New York, but I figured there's more respectable traffic going through the Canal these days."

Indiana pursed his lips, "...Hey, maybe we can help each other out? I mean, if you're just looking for something in the interim, I can see if maybe I can swing a spot for you on our boat?"

"I definitely wouldn't say no. Would be good sailing with you again," Richard agreed readily.

Indiana lead the other man back across the docks, Anna trailing slightly behind while in flight. They found a place to get lunch together, which was sadly a markedly easier thing for them to do in Panama than it was in the US. Anna adamantly refused to even try any of the local food, instead only eating the bread. Indiana briefly wondered if her digestive system was somehow incompatible, before realizing she had been the same way when first trying French food. Rich simply said that kids were 'like that' when it came to new food.

After paying, they moved back to where the Eleanor, the ship that would take them into the Pacific, would be docked. There, Indiana met back up with René, who was with a stranger with a thick moustache, goatee, and bowler hat. From the instant they came into sight, the stranger's eyes locked onto Anna, giving Indy a slight skin crawl.

"Hey, René, meet Richard Simons," Indiana held out a hand towards his companion, "My friend."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Richard tilted his head in deference to René, who nodded in return.

Belloq, placing his hands in his coat pockets, stepped back to allow the stranger forward, "Mr Jones, meet our client, Dr Pallière. He decided to come forward to ensure the safety of his investment."

"Hi," Indiana said, reaching out a hand towards the strange man.

The man blinked, seemingly taken off guard as his eyes came off of Anna and met Jones's. He managed a smile, shaking Indy's hand and saying, "I trust the bones of my ancestors are in safe hands. It is rare that I would trust someone without a proven history with such a task, but the Belloq family has a certain... dependability when it comes to operations like this," his smile widened, along with Belloq's.

"You flatter me, sir," René said, before pointing towards Indiana, "This is my own friend. We are classmates, and he is a very skilled linguist and historian. He's also very familiar with tropical climates."

Pallière nodded to himself, eyes wandering from Indiana and back to Anna, "And who is this?"

"My name is Anna!" Anna said enthusiastically, hovering by Indy's shoulder.

"It talks, just like you said!" Mariette chuckled, smiling ear to ear as he looked over to René, who tilted his head in response.

"Quite remarkable, isn't it? She's intelligent life that isn't human," René remarked.

"I hope we didn't make you come out all this way just for this," Indiana said, speaking up as he placed his hands on his hips and set his gaze on Pallière, "It'll be a few more months until we can promise any kind of progress. Archaeology isn't really an exact science..."

"It was no problem at all. I am dealing with business in Brazil, and I ended up having quite the speedy transit using an experimental flight across the Atlantic," Pallière excused with a wave of his hand, "But- I won't take your time for much longer. I already checked with the Eleanor's crew. The quartermaster assures me you all have more than enough supplies for your time on the sea, and Mr Belloq tells me he knows where to start the search."

"We do?" Indiana raised an eyebrow.

"We'll be going to Samoa to start on our research. Our target ship was last seen heading through that area, so it's as good a place to start as any," Belloq said casually.

Indiana glanced back towards Richard, before once again fixing Belloq's gaze, "Hey, René, listen... I've got a favor to ask you."

"Mmhmm?" René crossed his arms, raising his chin slightly to the question.

"Rich, my friend, is out of a job. I was wondering if we could get him something to do with us, just in the interim? He's an experienced seaman and a cook," Indiana proposed, holding out an open palm towards Richard.

"The ship is fully crewed and we already have cooks..." René muttered, "I see no reason to pay and feed an extra man. Surely there is plenty of work for a seaman here?"

Richard opened his mouth, but Indiana leaned forward, "Anna will need a guardian too. I'd rather not leave her with some random sailor. Rich knows her, he can take care of her and keep her out of our hair while we do our jobs."

"What does that mean?" Anna asked, in an honestly curious voice. All she got in response was a hand held up to silence her.

René sighed, looking Richard up and down, "I suppose he could make for a good bodyguard..."

"If it's really that big of a deal, he can take some out of my share," Indiana offered.

René seemed to consider that for a moment, before firmly shaking his head, "We have enough for incidental expenses. Replacing crew members hospitalized from fever, and such. We can pay him out of that."

Richard bowed his head again, "Thank you, sir."

"A friend of Indy's is a friend of mine," René smiled, looking up to Rich, "Besides. I've heard tales about the place we're going. A big, intimidating man with dark skin is almost indispensable for security in places like that."

Richard, clearly suppressing a roll of his eyes, gave a glance towards Indiana, who simply shrugged.

"What does that mean?" Anna asked again.

Indiana had to admit, of the two times Richard and he had sailed together, he very much liked the journey aboard the Eleanor over the Safe Travels. Not only was he not being kept up at all hours of the night, not working boilers, and not recovering from malaria, but he was in fact being kept in a nice cabin, on an adventure, and keeping his eyes on a hefty payday at the end of it all.

In fact, it was... not exactly something Indiana wouldn't mind doing for the rest of his life. Going out on expeditions like this, the master of his own destiny, with only his own knowledge and wits to fall back on was something he hadn't experienced since the last time he'd gone to Panama. It had ended pretty terribly, at least in terms of actual money making, but perhaps that had just been from a lack of experience. A lack of another mind to bounce things off of.

Indiana thought of all the ways Belloq could have been useful in his trek through the jungle to the mysterious pyramid where he'd found Anna, as he stared out over the sea from the railing of the weather deck. Certainly the other man could have helped against the gangsters, meaning they wouldn't be so short on supplies going into the wilderness. Perhaps they could have even had the forethought to hire guides... and...

And what would've happened to Anna?

Would Belloq have been the one to take care of her? Maybe he would've sold her... or convinced Indiana to sell her. René was much alike Indiana in many ways; they were very similarly... materialistic. Richard had only managed to convince Indiana to go down the path he did because he was the only external voice that had spoken to him. Marcus and Johan had been indifferent as to the fate of Anna, at least at first. Indiana owed his current situation almost entirely to the man.

A man who was currently being a very great help to Indiana. Richard just had a way with Anna that Indiana just seemed to not have. Anna was beginning to learn how to read, and Rich took the time to help her with learning her alphabet. He even took on the challenge of going through German, via the books Johan had sent Anna for her most recent birthday, though Indiana had a much more involved effort in the teaching of the second language considering he was the only one who actually knew how to speak and read German.

Eventually, they arrived at Samoa, a colonial administration of New Zealand. There, the research began - library hours, the questioning of locals, tracking down sources of information, a long and gruelling process. One that, predictably, took several months to slowly slog through.

"Indy, if we think this is hard..." Belloq commented once as the two men poured over books, "Just wait until we need to research for our doctoral theses."

"No kidding," Indiana muttered, adjusting his glasses. Ever since getting a prescription the previous year, he had begun to appreciate just how much he had been straining his eyes to read for most of his life. The optometrist had said it was an astigmatism - nothing to do with gas.

"What are you planning on researching?" asked Belloq, turning a page.

"Stratigraphy," Indiana muttered, "Specifically how it can help archaeological digs."

"Interesting," Belloq nodded, turning his eyes back down to the page, "I'm still trying to figure out what I'll research."

"The people overseeing your research should be able to suggest a path," Indiana pointed out.

Belloq didn't respond to that, becoming absorbed in something in his book. It seemed that over the past few days, the two men had finally found their breakthrough. Apparently, some of the mutineers had stopped off on a nearby island while the rest of them continued eastwards, meaning that they could have a lead on finding native lore hinting at where they went next. They just needed to find the correct source that would point them in the right direction, which required even more careful reading.

The familiar sound of four-hooved clicking, along with the heavy stomps of human footsteps, brought Indiana's head up from his book to the sight of Richard and Anna. Furrowing his brows, he checked his watch.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Anna shouted for attention, hopping up to his eye level several times with a flutter of her wings.

Richard placed a large hand on top of one of Indiana's discarded books, "Lost track of the time, Indy?" he asked.

"Kites! Kites! Kites!" Anna shouted, beginning to hop around behind Indiana's chair.

Belloq looked up from his station with an annoyed frown, a page of the book between his index and middle finger in the midst of a turn. He only gave a sigh as he looked back down to his work, attempting to ignore the child's shouts.

"Kites?" Indiana asked, a confused grimace on his face.

"You know, the kite you told me to buy her for her birthday? So that she could play with you while flying?" Richard said as Indiana blinked cluelessly. An almost offended look came across his face, "You said yesterday you would play with her on the beach with all that wind?"

"Wind! Wind! Wind! Wind!" Anna chanted, reversing her course and hopping back around Indiana's chair.

"Oh, yeah," Indiana did remember that, "Sorry, Rich, we're right in the middle of something. I'll probably need another few hours," he said, tapping the face of his open book indicatively.

Anna's chanting suddenly stopped.

"It'll be sundown by then, Indy," Richard folded his arms.

"You take her then, I don't care," Indiana said, perhaps too fast, "I'm busy right now."

Richard's face slowly hardened, causing a bead of sweat to form on Indy's forehead as the man loomed over him, "She has been with me all day. What she wants is you."

Indiana sighed, turning in his chair to meet Richard's eyes, "Listen, Rich, she might think this is some sort of vacation, but this is work for me. I need to get this done, then I'll have all the time in the world."

"Indiana. Your daughter spends eight hours a day with a sitter and sees you for a precious few at the beginning and end of every day. I know it's hard to give her the attention she needs in the time you have, but you can't just keep pawning off your duties onto other people," Richard spat, extending an index finger and poking Indiana in the shoulder, "I'm sure your dusty old pirate bones can wait a few goddamn hours for you to take your daughter to the beach!"

"They're not just dusty pirate bones," Indiana retorted, "I get this done, and-"

"And what??" Richard said, voice increasingly incredulous as he glanced towards something, "You go to back to college and get your doctorate? So you can get a cushy teaching job? So you can work long hours and ignore her even more efficiently? Have a private tutor raise her instead?"

"You're blowing this all out of proportion, this is temporary! Temporary!" Indiana argued, voice rising.

Richard's gaze locked onto the thing he had been glancing at before. Then, a full scowl overtook his face as he pointed towards it, "Look! Look at Anna!"

Indiana turned in his seat, looking over the back. Nearby, Anna sat, back against a row of bookshelves. Tears streamed down her face as she whimpered softly, ears flattened and wings drooping. Her choked sobs echoed through the mostly-empty library, Indiana struck into dumbfounded silence. Her rose-colored eyes eventually spied Indy's, and one of her wings raised to shield her face.

"What kind of six year old learns to hide her tears like that!?" Richard grabbed both of Indiana's shoulders and shook him firmly, jostling the other man to look him in the eyes.

"Get your hands off of him!" Belloq said, looking up from his work.

"Shut up, piss boy! This is a conversation between two men, not two men and a wand of fancy bread!" Richard bit back.

Belloq looked up at the clear two feet of difference between himself and the other man, swallowed, and looked back down at his work. That left Richard to turn his scorching gaze back down on Indiana.

"I- I'm sorry..." Indiana muttered lamely.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to her," Richard growled, finally releasing Indiana's shoulders, "Be careful how many times you turn your back on your own child, skimpy, 'else you might turn back and find there's nothing there."

Point made, Richard walked back out of the room, exiting into the waning light of the day. Indiana took a moment to rub his shoulders, the force applied to them having been so strong that he was sure with a flex of his palms, Richard could have shattered Indiana's collarbone. A golden blur shot past Indiana as Anna escaped, leaving the library as well.

Belloq looked back up from his book, the page having not been turned since Richard came into the room, "...Some people just don't appreciate the sacrifices people like us make in the pursuit of science."

Indiana Jones turned to look at him, an incredulous look on his face, "...Really?"

Belloq chuckled nervously, "Don't fret, Indy. The worst is nearly over. We are so close to a breakthrough. You'll have all the time in the world once we're underway, heading to this new lead."

"I should go..." Indiana said to himself, breaking eye contact.

"I can't translate this stuff on my own, Indy," Belloq said, "I mean, what do I pay you for?"

"You don't pay me shit!" Indiana turned his emotional distress into anger, slamming a hand on the table and looking towards Belloq.

"Yes, I do, in fact. You wouldn't have this opportunity without my family connections, yet we have a fifty-fifty split. We are both spending our time on the far side of world from our homes and families in pursuit of..." a pause, "Greater things, aren't we? We may be friends, but I still expect you to pull your weight!"

Indiana blinked a few times, blown back by just how callous René suddenly was being. Was this really the same guy who had partied with him in Paris, shared the burden of papers and research with, travelled through the Amazon with?

Belloq, detecting Indiana's questioning, raised a placating hand, "I think this last text is all we need. If we can get this done, I can go and contact the guides we need tonight and expedite the whole process. If we wait, it will tack on another day to our research. Another day where you'll be just as busy as today, where we have to go all the way back into the city. If we can just stick this out we'll sooner be underway and you can have more time with her."

Two hours later, Indiana walked out of the library to a dusky sky. They had found their lead, and he had been too cowardly to go and face his problems. The younger one was asleep, and the older one refused to talk to him.

Once, and now again.

Richard watched, brows furrowed, as the armed men rifled through his belongings. They lifted the mattress of his bunk and extracted his trunk from underneath the bedframe, muttering amongst themselves as they crowded the tiny crew room. Their backs blocked Richard's sight of his own belongings completely, making him extremely nervous as he tried to peek over their shoulders to see the action.

The Eleanor had been underway for two weeks now. Just recently, Indiana Jones and Mr Belloq had talked to some island natives and had gotten the final location of their prize. Now, the two men had disembarked aboard a launch to go to said location, leaving Richard once again as the sole guardian of Anna.

Yet, not minutes after Anna and he had watched the boat pull away from the ship had the quartermaster, along with several armed goons, come to his berth to tear his bunk apart. Anna had been sent back to her room, leaving Richard to wonder what the fuss was all about. He didn't have to wait for long.

"Aha!" one of the sailors said, retrieving something that made a glassy sloshing sound, "I knew it! Thief!" he said, turning around, a bottle of liquor in his gloved hand. It had been planted, of course. Richard squeezed his eyes shut, he should've seen that one coming.

"Been saving some of Mr Belloq's private stash for yourself, have you, thief?" the quartermaster asked, folding his arms, a greasy smile spreading across his face as his teeth clenched down around his cigarette, "Take him to the brig, boys!"

The Eleanor dropped anchor in a pristine piece of oceanic real estate. Below its red, slightly rusted hull, dark blue ocean met with aquamarine shallows and freckled, rocky arms of reefs. A sandbar absorbed a natural break nearby, the sun approached the horizon, and a sea breeze constantly blew in from a gathering of dark clouds to the west.

Past the beautiful, clear, shallow water near the ship was an island. It was small enough that one could walk from one side to the other in a half an hour at a leisurely pace, and was partially ringed by a wide beach filled with driftwood and washed-up seaweed. Near the back of the island, the sand turned to stone in a long, sloping descent into the ocean. Crowning the rises of the island was a cluster of palms and a few, sturdier trees further in. A few crabs skittered back and forth between the flotsam on the beach, and not a single creature moved between the fronds of the island's tiny forest.

From the ship, a launch began to putter out towards the island, driven by a gasoline motor. Upon it, a group of sailors sat, crowded around Indiana and Belloq, the wind blowing through their hair as tiny spittles of water wetted their jackets, kicked up as the boat's prow crashed through the waves.

Their four month journey had finally come to an end at this island. They had finally found the natives, into which the mutineers had assimilated. To their great remorse, it had turned out the mutineers had scuttled their ship, the treasure sinking along with it, to make themselves harder to track. Not only that, but their integration into the native culture had brought plague upon the indigenous populations.

Many of the mutineers, along with many more of the natives, had been buried in a special pit on a remote island which had been visible from a distance. That island was where Indiana and Belloq now headed, to search for the century-old plague tomb in order to confirm the location of the sailor's bones for Mariette.

Then, they could get paid and go home. Even the standard payment for the work was going to be enough for Indiana to afford his doctoral tuition. There, at least, was some hope.

He'd tried his best to try and make it up with Anna by taking over a few of her reading lessons and trying his best to find fun things to do aboard the ship - which he'd found out were relatively few. Fortunately, it seemed she was still a bit young to hold long-term grudges, and reciprocated well to the added attention. She'd gotten her alphabet down, and even managed to hold a few conversations in German with her father.

Richard's words still held like a heavy weight in Indiana's heart, though. Just because he had some time now didn't mean it would all just go back to normal once they got back to civilization and normalcy. Deep down, Indiana knew that as soon as he got back into his studies and his work, Anna would be on her own again... for eight hours of the day.

Indiana Jones adjusted his fedora, putting his mind back on the present. Usually, he would get a thrill at the thought of unearthing an ancient tomb and getting an insight into another culture. However, all he could really think about was getting his paycheck and going home. All the joy had been sucked out of the expedition.

The boat was run up onto the beach, some of the sailors hopping out and helping to push it up onto the sand. Indiana stepped out as well, brushing some of the water off of his leather jacket. Boots hit the sand as Belloq stood in the boat, stretching a few times and following Indiana off.

"I will have the sailors go back to the ship for supplies once we confirm the location of the pit," Belloq said, boots sinking into the moist sand as he followed Indiana towards the pit, "I doubt we can do a full excavation before nightfall."

"Shouldn't be too hard to find," Indiana muttered, "They said it would be somewhere on the rocky side of the island."

The sand dried as they came further up the beach. Belloq's sailors followed close behind, picks, shovels, and machetes in hand as they circumnavigated the island. Eventually, they found the rocky side of the island, where waves crashed against barnacle-covered rocks instead of sand, and the high tide filled several pools that had to be carefully navigated around, in order to prevent wetting their socks.

The tomb was not hard to find, just as the natives had said. A roughly-hewn, circular stone sat over a flat section of rock, only a foot above the lapping of the high tide. Using their pickaxes, the crew leveraged the stone aside, revealing a dark, empty crevice beneath it.

Belloq lit a torch, tying a rope near its handle and got the crew to slowly, carefully lower it into the hole. Indiana stepped forward, kneeling near the tomb and peering inside as the flames danced around the sides.

The hole had to be around ten meters deep. The mouth of the pit opened wide and tapered off as it went down, roughly-cut bricks lining the sides. Rows of sharpened sticks pointed downwards, as if to discourage someone from climbing back up, the rows only terminating at the bottom of the pit, where the torch illuminated piles upon piles of moist, darkened, rotting bones.

"Why the spikes?" Belloq wondered.

"Scared of the dead coming back to life, maybe," Indiana theorized, standing up and adjusting his fedora, "Let's rig up a rope. We can saw through some of those poles to make it safer to-"

Someone suddenly threw their weight into his back, and Indiana found himself plummeting down into the abyss below. His body bounced off of one of the wooden poles, smashing the air out of his lungs. His hands, instinctually raised to protect his head, protected his skull from cracking against the side of the pit as he tumbled down the side, landing in the bottom with a crash of bones.

The world swam for a few moments as Indiana's stunned diaphragm worked to pull air back into his lungs. Blinking away the stars, his vision finally stabilized to the sight of a pair of empty eye sockets of a human skull, staring back at him.

"Mr Jones..." Belloq's voice echoed down from the top of the pit.

"René... what the hell's going on!?" Indiana shouted angrily, surging back onto his feet and looking up to the orange, sunset light pouring down from the top.

"Dr Mariette changed the terms of our agreement," Belloq explained, a faint smile on his lips, "I am afraid our partnership, no matter how profitable, was nothing compared to what I stand to gain from ending it."

Indiana blinked, agape as the crewmen worked on the stone again, beginning to shift it back over the entrance to the tomb.

"Your daughter is worth a lot of money to a lot of people, Mr Jones. You did not really think you could keep her, did you?" René laughed, "That is the difference between you and I, I think. You see that thing and you think you can treat it like a normal, little girl. I see it, and I see an opportunity. You lack ambition, Indiana. That's what makes me an archaeologist... and you, a tool."

"Don't you touch her!" Indiana screamed, surging to his feet and nearly avoiding impaling himself with the end of a slick, wet spike sticking from the wall. He wished he had a gun, just so he could blast that smug grin off of the frenchman's face.

"You were a useful tool, though," Belloq said, ignoring him, "You were brilliant and sharp. Perhaps in academia, we may have even been peers. That is why I do not just shoot you right here. I want to allow you a bit of time to think your life over before dehydration takes you. At least you may take solace in the fact that someone will profit from your foolishness, and that Anna may still remain alive."

A sliver of light remained, Belloq's face being the only thing visible through the gap between the stone and the edge of the pit mouth. Indiana balled up a fist, extending a finger, "I'll kill you for this! I will! You'll go through hell for this, René!"

René Belloq simply smiled, took off his hat, and wished him, "Adieu."

The rock slid back into place over the pit with a slam, covering the world in darkness.

12: Overboard, 1926

Author's Note

light content warning: faked suicide as a ploy in an escape attempt.

Extra long chapter as a christmas present. Hope it's not too long. I do want to aim for 5-6 thousand per chapter, but I just found that dramatic action chapters tended to go on for longer before resolving themselves.

12: Overboard, 1926

Belloq stepped out from the launch onto the weather deck of the Eleanor, the cables that had hoisted his boat back onto the ship jangling behind him. The Captain waited nearby, having a smoke as he watched his sailors disembark.

"Mr Jones's friend is in the brig, as you requested. The horse is sealed in its cabin and under guard," the Captain said, eyes following the other man as he dusted the sand off his boots.

"Let's get out of here," Belloq ordered, squinting and looking over his shoulder to the island in the distance, "He's well and truly trapped, but I'd rather not take any chances."

"You didn't kill him?" the Captain asked, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and strolling over to the side.

"I wanted to give him some time to think at the bottom of a pit. Even if he gets out, there's no land for miles and nothing on the island to sustain himself with. Get the anchor up and get us underway, vite!"

"I would not recommend it, sir," the Captain retorted, holding out his still smoking cigarette towards the ship's superstructure, "We have received a radio transmission. The good doctor wishes to see his cargo, he is heading to us aboard a seaplane."

"We can pick him up while we're on the move," Belloq insisted, kicking his boots against the railing to get the last of the sandy muck off of the tough leather.

"No can do," the Captain gestured towards the clouds, blotting out the setting sun, "Storm's coming. Sea's going to be fierce. Even with the natural break, the water's going to be hell to try and fish a seaplane out of. It will be impossible to do if we try to grab a seaplane in the deep ocean."

Belloq bit his lip, looking back out towards the island. Small droplets of rain hit his jacket and calls went out from the ship's officers to batten down hatches.

"If you're really that nervous, why don't you just go back there and make sure the job's finished?" the Captain asked, pulling down his cap and stepping back from the railing.

"I'm no savage to shoot a man like that like a caged animal," Belloq hissed, walking towards the superstructure with a glance towards the Captain, "As soon as we are able, cast off from this accursed rock. I am going to have dinner, then I will have a chat with Mr Jones's bodyguard!"

The Captain sighed, tossing his fully burned-out cigarette overboard and following closely behind, the rain picking up in greater and greater droves.

Indiana Jones sat in complete darkness, body aching from the fall, and nothing but the sound of rain and dripping water to accompany him. Bones creaked and cracked underneath him every time he shifted his weight, moisture clung to the back of his jacket from where it connected to the wall, and the overwhelming scent of dirt and brine. For several minutes, he sat, hands sunken into the bones underneath him, stunned into inactivity.

Belloq had seemed so... friendly. So generous, so accommodating as he showed him around Paris and around his vineyard. They'd made money together, Indiana had gotten a taste of adventure that he'd sorely missed throughout his college years. He had thought they were friends; he'd known that Belloq was a fellow materialist, but not to the point where he'd sell out his friend so easily.

Had he been planning this all along? Surely not, or else he'd have just had Indiana killed in his sleep and tossed overboard long ago, the crew were obviously on his side. This must have just been a last minute change in plans, a better offer given... given from that damned client. He'd seen the way Mariette had looked at Anna back in Panama, it all seemed so obvious now.

Surely, Mariette could not have had any love for Anna. What fate awaited her? Was she to be caged like a zoo animal, treated like a pet? Was she to be studied and split open to have her organs harvested?

Indiana's face twitched as a mixture of self-loathing and anger came over him. These were the exact things Indiana had wanted to prevent when he adopted that girl. Visions of her crying in the library came back to him. Maybe she might've forgiven him in the moment, but he knew full well from experience how much it blew to have his father turn his back on him. He'd lost sight of how much light she'd brought into his life, and now she was being taken away.

His hands retracted from the bones beneath him, his weight shifting as his lips tightened. A finger brushed against the rim of something cloth, something with a familiar texture. The brim of a hat, the one that had fallen off when he'd been pushed into the pit.

That wasn't going to happen, not if he could help it. His hand clenched around the brim, and he pulled it down over his head.

His next immediate thought was to assess the situation. He had his whip, a few archaeological tools, his canteen, and the rest of his clothes and equipment. For once, he cursed his abstinence from tobacco, or else he might have been prone to carrying a lighter with him. Any source of light would have been a lifesaver. Though, fortunately, he had a fairly good image of the pit's dimensions in his mind - it hadn't exactly been the largest ancient structure he'd explored.

The opening of the pit was around ten meters above him. He was very lucky to not have cracked his head, and that the blunt sides of the spiked poles had broken his fall. However, those same spiked poles were going to be a substantial obstacle. They had obviously been installed specifically to prevent the dead from rising and climbing back up to the mouth of the pit and would prevent his ascent as well, not that he particularly trusted his climbing skills in the dark.

Another fall could mean he could hit a spike on the way down and get seriously injured, and his blindness meant that he could very well stumble and ram a spike through an eye socket. Even if he got to the mouth of the pit, the stone used to cover it had taken several men using pickaxes for leverage to move. He doubted he could get a stable enough hold to push the stone out of the way, let alone gather the strength needed to shift it.

A frown. That was it, wasn't it? It wasn't like they would've made some sort of secret, back exit to a plague tomb. He was stuck.

His boots planted into the bones as he carefully felt around himself, fingers touching the ends of spikes. Grabbing ahold of one of them, he righted himself in the center of the room. Bones snapped and crunched underneath him, and his spine tingled as he felt the dead grasp of a skeletal hand push up his pant leg and brush against his right sock. Rain pattered against the top of the stone overhead, making Indiana hope that the pit wasn't prone to flooding.

Who was he kidding. It was a stone pit in the middle of a rocky coastal plain, of course it was going to be prone to flooding.

Widening his stance to grant him better stability, Indiana began to feel around. Bricks surrounded him, and his fingertips felt the grooves between them, where mortar glued the stones together. Yet...

His brows furrowed. He withdrew his left arm and touched his cheek. There was definite, cold moisture on that hand. He withdrew his other arm and touched his cheek. That hand was soaked. He squinted, despite it not making a difference in the light, and carefully turned towards the wall.

A slow trickle of water ran down it. Perhaps it was rainwater, flowing through a microscopic crack between the rock covering and the side of the pit? A quick taste test left the sting of minerals and high salt content on his tongue, though admittedly there was likely also salt water moisture clinging to every single wall of the pit that was contaminating the taste test.

Still, it showed that, in whatever way, the pit was compromised somehow. Perhaps he could leverage something open, if he could find the source. It was better than sitting and rotting, or waiting for the water to rise.

His hand grasped one of the spikes again, and he worked his way up the pole carefully to the place where it met the wall. The wood had held up well, but it was moist and old. Clumsily, he took a boot out of the bones, steadying himself with both hands against other spikes. Then, he slammed the boot against the side of the spike several times, a satisfying crack heard on the third strike.

He picked the broken spike off the floor. It had come apart to be about two feet long, with a pointed edge - a pointed edge that would be perfect for applying some leverage. Licking his lips, he reached out again and felt the walls, finding out exactly how wide the wet part of the wall as. It seemed that thirty degrees of the wall of the pit had the trickling coming down it, and he could feel the flow tapering off the higher up the wall he felt.

Taking out his whip, he fastened the spike around his torso, in order to free up his hands. After making sure the pole was more or less secure, Indiana began to climb up the wall slicked with water, using the spikes as handholds and footholds.

It was difficult going, requiring a massive amount of grip strength from his hands to keep a hold of the slick, angled spikes. He planned to investigate the source of the water, if he could find it, and failing that he would go to the top to attempt to shift the stone.

His nails dug into the wood, and he felt splinters and grime dig in under them. More than once, he lost grip on a hold, every single step upwards bottoming out his lungs and causing his muscles to roar. Even worse were the times when he had to free up a hand to feel around on the wall, depending on a single arm and his two feet, which had significantly less traction than his hands, to keep him stable.

About halfway up (at least, by his estimates), Indiana's hand finally found where the water ended. A tiny, smooth crack in the wall separated where the water started and ended. His eyes widened at the discovery, and he reached down to his whip to untie it and release the spike. With its pointed end, Indiana clumsily jammed the spike into the wall and pushed. If anything, it would loosen some bricks and allow him a stable place to put his legs so that he could give his arms a break.

Bricks fell away from the wall, and suddenly the sound of water grew louder. Indiana frowned, before a loud CRACK nearly started him into losing his grip. A jet of water suddenly shot out from the wall, spraying him directly in the chest, the sound of stones shifting and splitting growing louder as water rushed into the pit.

"Crap. This is going to be a dumb way to die..." Indiana said to himself, reaching out a hand to lamely attempt to stop the flow.

Instead, his hand found that the water pouring through the gap was coming from a hole that was forever widening. No sooner had his fingertips found the edge of the hole did a much louder crack resound from the rock, the jets of water turning into a continuous waterfall, pushing the water growing in the room up towards the ceiling faster and faster. Soon, Indiana no longer found the need to grip to the wall, as water rose around his boots, quickly rising towards his belt and torso.

In his last available moments to do so, Indiana took several quick breaths, clearing any residual air from his lungs, before taking the biggest gasp he could, just as the water overran his chin. He could extend his breath be swimming to the top of the pit, back above the water line, but the water would soon completely flood the room. He doubted he could move the stone and free himself before he ran out of air.

The salt stinging his eyes, though, confirmed a theory that had flourished in his panicked mind. The water flowing through the hole had to have come from the ocean. His hand was still on the edge of the hole, and with it, he hauled himself through the water towards the hole.

He got his head through the hole, and one of his arms. His other shoulder, however, was just too wide to fit through the hole. There was a faint light in the water, but it was not enough to see anything more than the sediment floating directly in front of his eyes. The fact there was light could only mean one thing - the surface was near.

Lungs beginning to burn and mind racing at a million miles an hour, his free hand went to find purchase. It gripped around a piece of rock on the other side of the hole, and using whatever traction he could find with his legs, he willed himself forward through the hole, even as his shoulder stabbed with pain.

A loud pop echoed through his skeleton, and Indiana involuntarily gasped, allowing water to flow down his throat. This action, of course, was followed by instinctual coughing, letting all the rest of his air out of his lungs. Yet, with his shoulder dislocated, he could finally fit through the gap, his hips scraping very closely on the sides of the hole behind him.

With water in his windpipe, lungs devoid of air, and a large amount of pain going through his body, causing his heart to beat faster, Indiana's world was fading fast. With only a single arm functional, and his legs, he desperately kicked towards the surface as he began to instinctually attempt to inhale.

His head broke the surface, allowing him a single gasp of air around a mouth full of water and a compromised windpipe, before he sank again. Surging upwards, he broke the surface once again, coughing and spluttering as his working arm frantically searched for something to cling onto. His hand slapped painfully against flat, hard stone, and he clung on as he worked to clear the water from his respiratory system and breathe.

Rain fell from the sky in a hail of sharp, fast needles. The water around him boiled with the impacts of the raindrops, and only a bare minimum amount of moonlight got through the dark clouds overhead. The sounds of waves were the only other thing audible in the embrace of the night. He could see the stone covering of the tomb that had nearly become his grave nearby. He had escaped into a tidal pool that neighbored the pit, one that had likely eroded its way towards the pit in the century since it had been dug.

Something bumped against Indiana's back. Eyes stinging and irritated, he turned around to see his fedora, floating on the water.

Richard looked out through the misty glass of the porthole, streaks of rainwater coursing down its hazy pane. A shadow moved past it, in the shape of a boat. On it, nine men, missing one. He suspected he knew who the missing man was, and he pursed his lips as he thought through his options.

Indiana had likely been taken for a nice, clean execution job out on the island. Richard had clearly been framed and locked up to prevent him from raising a fuss when his friend failed to return from the expedition. Why they hadn't just shot him and thrown him overboard was another thing, perhaps they had some conscience left? Perhaps they were waiting for later?

Either way, in his mind, Richard knew what this had to all be about. If selling Anna was going to make Indiana a very wealthy man, the same logic would apply to anyone. From what he'd seen, the Frenchman in charge had an attitude of complete apathy towards the girl. There would be no loving relationship from that.

He had to get off the ship, go get help, before someone decided he wasn't worth the trouble. Fortunately, it wasn't his first time behind bars...

A set of standard iron prison bars separated the cell from a small compartment on the other side. There, one of the sailors watched him closely, revolver on the table beside him, nightstick on his belt, and a keychain on the board beside him. There had been another guard, but he'd excused himself to go and refill his pipe. The time to move was now.

Richard walked over to the small cot in the brig, disregarding the sailor's eyes as he boredly followed him. If they'd wanted him dead, they'd have just shot him and thrown him over the side an hour ago. Even as the guard watched him do it, he began to tie the sheets on the cot into a makeshift rope.

As he did his work, the sailor grew increasingly nervous. He kept glancing towards the bulkhead on the right side of the room, likely looking for the return of his companion. Calmly, Richard threw the rope to a pipe that crossed the ceiling, tying it off securely, before tying the other side into a noose.

"Hey!" the sailor said, standing up and grabbing his gun.

Richard kept his stone cold face, not looking towards the guard, as he stepped onto the toilet and looped the bedsheet-rope around his neck. It would never work, of course, the rope was too long and the sheet offered too much support to his neck. Clearly, though, the guard did not know that. Lucky fella.

The keys jangled into the lock as the guard kept his gun trained on Rich. The man himself stepped off the toilet seat, dangling from the ceiling. His feet brushed the floor, and all the sheets did was make it slightly hard for him to breathe. Still, he pretended to go limp, hurrying the guard's actions as the cell door swung open, shouting for help. He kept his eyes closed, and waited to hear the sailor come within reach.

Richard flexed his abdomen, legs lashing out just as the guard stepped into the cell. The first kick was to the guard's gun-wielding hand, which sent the pistol scattering across the room, and the second was to the chin. The man staggered back into the bars with a loud clang, allowing Richard the time to slip out of his own noose and land on the floor with a grunt.

The guard reached for his baton and wound up for a hit, only to be slammed in the nose with a single haymaker. The sailor's legs wobbled as blood gushed from a broken nose and a telltale daze settled over his eyes. With a gentle push, Richard toppled the sailor over backwards onto the ground, who settled in for a trauma-induced nap.

Lightning struck inside, thunder rumbling through the ship. The sound of rain was audible through the hull, along with the rising grumble of the ship's engines. They were keeping the engines running, likely ready to depart in the near future.

Reaching down, Rich grabbed the nightstick, keys, and gun from the downed guard, shoving them all under his belt and into his pockets. As he walked to the door, he turned the revolver over in his hands a few times. He'd never held or fired a gun in his life, but he figured it couldn't hurt to at least carry it.

Stuffing it in the back of his belt, he stepped out into the hallway just in time to look up and meet the eyes of the second guard, filled pipe in his hand. There was a moment of shock.

"Don't scream," Richard advised as he took the nighstick out of his belt.

"UH-" the sailor started, before a loud, wooden THWACK echoed through the compartment, the sailor bowling over backwards and hitting the deck with a loud slam.

Grabbing his shoulders with both hands, Richard threw the man's limp body through the bulkhead hatch. Then, taking the second guard's nightstick, he closed the bulkhead and sealed it shut, looping the nightstick into the mechanism to solidly jam it. They would wake up eventually, and on the off chance that their cries of distress had been absorbed by the noises of the storm and the rattling of the engine, Richard would prefer they did not escape immediately to raise the alarm.

Giving the wheel for the bulkhead's locking mechanism a few attempted turns, finding the mechanism locked tight, Richard turned and casually began to walk down the corridor back towards the stairs leading up. There was very little room to sneak around, especially with his large frame, so his best bet was to look as confident as possible, in case there were still sailors aboard the ship that were unaware of his status as a detainee.

As he reached the hatches leading out onto the weather deck, he heard the voices of sailors echoing down the corridors towards him. Surely enough, one of them pushed past him, jogging up from below decks with a raincoat on and a loop of rope around his shoulder. Rich tried not to show his shock as the sailor continued on towards his duties, completely ignoring him.

"James! Leeroy! Get to the crane and start it up!" shouted a male voice from elsewhere.

"The motor won't turn over, boss, we're trying to find a spare plug!" another responded.

"Then hurry up! The boss will be here any minute! Mr Belloq wants him out of the water and us underway as soon as possible! Need I mention the bonuses we have on the line for our timeliness and discretion?"

"Aye boss!"

Richard spared a look down the hallway, to where driving rain poured through a set of open hatches leading out onto the weather deck. Lightning flashed, illuminating the three talking men. Rich camly and swiftly took the next set of stairs leading upwards.

The cabins of the ship's officers, as well as Jones's and Belloq's were just up on the next floor. However, his ascent was paused as he observed shadows being cast down the stairs from the next level. His eyes were particularly focused on the long, skinny, cylindrical set of shadows wielded by two of the figures cast by the orange glow of incandescent bulbs. Armed men, likely guarding the cabins for a very particular reason.

Richard licked his lips, turning around and looking back out over the forward-facing portholes, looking out over the rain-washed weather deck. The crew gathered around the ship's port side, operating a large cargo crane and sets of floodlights. The crane's motor ran and the boom arm swept out over the ship's side, the weight causing the ship to list ever so slightly.

His vision swept to the right, where rows of ship's boats were mounted on cranes, swaying from side to side as the ship rose and fell with the waves.

"HNNNNNGHHH!" Indiana grunted, coming down on the side of the tree once again. Straightening back up, shoulder held by his other arm's hand, he took a few, tight breaths before slamming back down against the trunk again.

With a loud, ear-ringing pop his shoulder came back into place. The muscles and tendons surrounding the area were in great amounts of hot, stinging pain and his fingers tingled. What his arm needed now was a sling to keep it stable so it could heal properly, but that wasn't going to happen. Not out here. He could move his arm again, which was all he needed. Any permanent damage he was going to suffer paled in front of the consequences of that ship leaving with Anna aboard.

Through the rain driving down upon the island, he could still see it, right where he left it. Spotlights on the sides swept the ocean, and the ship's bulky silhouette hadn't moved since he escaped from the pit. It was going to be a long swim, definitely a longer swim than anything he'd undertaken before, but he had very little choice.

Kicking off his boots and socks and stuffing his hat under his belt, Indiana ran towards the waterline and dove in.

The water was cold, cooled down from its pleasant temperature earlier in the day by the storm. The waves were high, making the simple act of escaping the beach of the island a tough chore. It wasn't exactly the first time Indiana had been in the water, though, and quickly began to strongly stroke against the waves, breaking out into the open seas.

Lightning struck, briefly reminding Indiana of the one time he was told to abandon his task of swimming in a lake when a lightning storm rolled around. That memory revealed just how insane the stunt was. Professional swimmers swam in good weather, and also weren't weighed down by a full set of clothes and equipment. The water was disorienting, and while the swells weren't nearly enough to compete with what he'd be experiencing in the deep ocean they decreased his ability to keep his eyes on target.

It was as his arms began to tire, especially the one that had been recently dislocated, that Indiana began to panic. As soon as his arms gave out, his clothes and muscle density would drag him straight underwater, which would be a rather terrifying way to die. What definitely made the situation worse was that, when he looked back towards the island shore, he saw the sand almost invisible in the distance against the sheets of rainwater.

Turning back, fear propelling his arms, he began to swim back. Driven in circles by the current, his progress was slower than his journey out due to his quickly dwindling energy. He was pulled under a few times, and struggled to surface before his breath ran out.

Thoughts flooded with anxiety and fear, he had very little time to do much but realize just how lethal his situation was. Land was still far away, and minutes more would spell a watery fate.

"SKIMPY!" a voice bellowed over the rain and the water. A light passed over Indiana for but a moment.

Indiana's head immediately went under from a wave, before he kicked back up to the surface with a cough and splutter. Nearby, a boat bobbed up and down on the waves, a man's shadow standing atop it. Indiana could scarce respond, having as much trouble as he was keeping his head above water.

A rope came from the boat and slapped down into the water near him. He grabbed for the lifeline like... well, a drowning man. Another wave pummelled him under the water, but the rope quickly began to retract, pulling him along behind it.

Bursting from the water and grabbed around the collar by a strong hand, Indiana's stressed lungs took in air once again as he was hauled over the side onto the boat. A hulking figure stood over him, face shadowed, and hand still clenched around the back of his collar. A flashlight was laid in the hull of the boat, the bulb on but illuminating very little from its position.

"What the hell were you doing in the water!?" Richard asked.

"What the hell are you doing on this boat?" Indiana retorted, between gasps for breath.

Richard grabbed the flashlight and switched it back off, "Going over to the island to make sure they killed you before making a break for the mainland."

"Did you- what about Anna?" Indiana shouted, righting himself in the boat. He was beginning to shiver.

"She's being guarded. I didn't have too much time before my own wardens woke up and raised the alarm. I figured I'd go and tell the coast guard!" Richard shouted, shifting his weight carefully as he went back to the outboard motor mounted at the back of the boat.

"We need to go get her!" Indiana insisted, "Turn the boat, we have to get to the ship before they start moving!"

"How do you suppose we do that?" Richard asked, the boat beginning to move as the outboard revved up.

Clutching his hands around his arms, Indiana looked back towards his friend, "Nobody on the mainland's going to help! What are we going to tell them? A small equine with wings who is my adoptive daughter has been kidnapped? At best they laugh at us, at worst they throw us in a sanitorium! We gotta go back for Anna! I'd rather die trying!"

"I didn't think about that!" a pause, "...They'd have to have noticed I stole the boat by now! I don't know how much you know about the maritime, but you need the cooperation of the ship's crew to get back aboard a ship at sea!" Richard yelled, though he began to turn the boat nonetheless.

Indiana's eyes fixed on the canvas, once used to cover the top of the boat when it was stowed, still bundled up in a ball in the corner. Then, he looked at the spotlights scanning the sides of the ship, "Do you think we could make a fifty meter swim or so, in these conditions?"

"Probably, it'd be tough!" Richard said, "I'm more worried about you, you were struggling."

"I'd be fine for that distance," Indiana dismissed, reaching over to grab the canvas, "We'll distract the crew with the boat and climb up the anchor chain!"

"Then what!? The port for the anchor chain leads directly into a winch. I don't think your body will enjoy being winched like a chain!" Richard warned, gunning the motor as they made back for the ship.

"I'll figure something out as we go along!" Indiana proclaimed, taking the canvas with both hands.

"We swept the entire ship, sir! No sign of 'im, but one of the boats is missing. We think he bailed."

Belloq gave a hot snort from his nose, arms on his hips. He would've thought human beings with an average amount of intelligence, being paid an above-average amount of money for their deeds, might've been capable of keeping a single man behind bars for a few hours. Apparently, that was just not possible.

Dr Mariette came up the stairs behind Belloq, the armed gunmen in the compartment taking their eyes off Belloq as he approached. The latter man turned towards his employer, taking off his hat, "Sir. Your package is in this cabin, as ordered."

"Good, good," Mariette smiled, rubbing his hands together, "Give us some time alone, please..."

"Of course," Belloq said, stepping aside as Mariette made for the cabin door. It was opened, then shut behind him with a click. Lips firming up, he turned to his men, "Tell the Captain we are leaving immediately. Get us out of here!"

"Aye aye!" they said, one turning and running for the stairs to head up towards the bridge.

Anna looked up, fearfully, towards the strange man that had just entered her room. The light reflected off his glasses, and he walked with a certain, cautious cadence towards her, boots clicking on the metal flooring.

"Do you know where Daddy is?" Anna asked, voice small as she lowered her head, staying where she was on top of her bunk.

"That man?" the stranger gave a sorrowful look down towards her, "Daddy sold you. You were holding him back from his career as an archaeologist."

"W-What?" Anna asked, ears flattening against her skull and tail tossing.

The stranger continued to close the distance, finally crouching as he reached her, "You weren't being a very good girl, he said. You weren't worth the trouble."

"Daddy wouldn't say those things..." Anna said, looking around the room, "What did you do with him? He should've been back by now!"

"He doesn't want to see you anymore," the stranger said, reaching out to stroke a finger across Anna's collar, "You belong to me now," his thumb came forward and pressed down on one of the buttons of her shirt, "What kind of tricks are you capable of?"

"Stop!" Anna cried, pushing his hand away with one stroke of her forehoof, before scrambling away towards the bed and sliding under.

A boot came down on her tail, putting stress on her tailbone, before she was roughly yanked back out into the light. Two hands grabbed her by the wings, more forcefully this time, hoisting her out in front of the stranger as she weakly slapped against his arms.

"You are my property, you understand!?" he spat, "You are nothing but a worthless animal, abandoned and alone. I am the only one who will be able to care for you from now on, understand!?"

Anna's eyes began to well as she stared up into his eyes, feathers bunching up around the man's fists and legs flailing.

A gunshot echoed through the ship.

Five more gunshots filled the air as the crew opened fire on the empty motorboat, punching rifle bullet-sized holes through its wooden hull. The covering on top, flashlight beam peeking through it, was all that the crew seemingly needed to dump every bullet their rifles could hold into the motorboat.

Indiana Jones gripped onto the anchor chain, heart thundering from the burning fire in his muscles and lungs twinging with pain under the stress. Richard was close behind him, below, as they ascended the chain from the waves.

"Now we're here, what do we do now!?" Richard asked, pleadingly as they climbed.

"I'll figure something out!" Indiana said, putting one hand over the other as rain slicked down the length of the slightly rusted metal chain.

"You keep saying that! What's the plan!?"

"I don't usually have those!"

All of a sudden, the chain began to violently shake. The vibrations rattled his knuckles and stimulated the tingling feeling in his hand. After a moment, Indiana realized that he was ascending, despite staying still. The anchor chain was rising from the water, the ship was about to shove off.

Sooner than he expected, the hole where the chain disappeared into the hull grew closer, along with the no doubt bone-grinding gears that ran the winch system. When in doubt, there was but one thing for him to rely on.

The whip cracked through the air, fastening itself around the railing along the side of the ship's prow. Indiana let go of the chain at the last minute, climbing up the whip towards the deck and towards safety.

Richard, also clinging to the chain, reached out towards Indiana, only to be waved off with the response, "No! No! Climb down the chain! Down the chain!"

Nodding furiously, Richard began to climb down as fast as he safely could, only barely keeping neck-in-neck with the rate the chain was being pulled into the ship. Indiana clambered over the side of the boat, before holding onto the whip as Richard, the much heavier of the two of them, abandoned the chain and grabbed on.

The higher amount of tension on the bullwhip was immediately evident as Richard began to climb up towards the railing.

Then, the whip slipped, sliding completely free of the railing. The only thing preventing Richard from falling straight back down into the ocean was the whip's popper, which slid down and jammed itself between Indiana's hand.

Indiana immediately lost balance, jamming his bare feet beneath the railing to keep from being pulled over the edge. The skin on his hands burned and bled with the effort of keeping hold of his whip as Richard made the last few steps towards the railing.

Just as the popper was about to slide right through Indiana's palms, Richard's hand grabbed onto the deck, his muscles visibly rippling as he supported his own body weight, allowing Indiana the leeway to re-affirm his grip on his whip, looping the leading edge of it around one of his hands and pulling Richard up the rest of the way.

"That goddamn thing is handy!" Richard wheezed as he pulled himself up over the railing, "Where'd you learn to use it!?"

"Circus," Indiana said, collapsing onto the floor with his whip still looped around his hand, having once again depleted all the stamina in his lungs.

Lightning flashed, illuminating someone's shadow across the deck. Moments later, thunder rumbled as the man who cast the shadow, a sailor in a raincoat and boots, pointed towards them and shouted, "OI!"

Before Indiana could muster the strength to surge to his feet, Richard had bounded to his feet and crossed the gap, grabbing the man by his face and smashing his skull against a nearby ventilation pipe. The sailor fell and didn't get back up.

Indiana, getting back up and hauling in his whip, eventually staggered towards the downed sailor and began to unbutton his raincoat. Richard initially looked confused, before widening his eyes in realization as Indiana quickly donned the sailor's coat and boots.

Many of the sailors on deck were out by the spotlights, looking overboard. A few of them had rifles, aimed out towards sea. The crane had moved back into its default position, though new cargo sat secured to the deck next to it - a seaplane. The aircraft was covered with canvas and tied to the deck with steel cables, its windows dark and empty. Indiana quickly ushered Richard behind cover as his eyes tracked another form moving towards the side of the boat.

Another man in a raincoat moved forward towards the crew with rifles. The others turned towards him, and some indiscernible speech was audible over the rain and the thunder. For a moment, the man in the raincoat turned towards one of the spotlights, illuminating his face.

"Belloq..." Indiana muttered.

"Why didn't he just shoot you?" Richard whispered almost directly into Indiana's right ear, staying crouched next to him.

"Twisted code of honor," Indiana said, before turning towards Richard and gesturing towards him, "I need you to arrange our escape plan."

"You thinking of taking the plane?" Richard asked.

"I got bad luck with seaplanes. Besides, there's no launching mechanism on this ship, there's no way to get it in the air," Indiana explained, pointing to one of the boats instead, "Pick out a boat. Maybe one of them that has a sail you can set up. If I'm not back, try and get some supplies. We'll need a lot of water to make the mainland from here."

"Got it," Richard nodded, though he grabbed the tails of Indiana's raincoat just as he was about to leave, "Listen, Skimpy..."

"Yeah?" Indiana asked, turning around.

"You're a good father. You made a few mistakes, but a good father busts his ass to make it right," Richard said, smiling as he reached up and squeezed his shoulder. Then, he reached for the back of his belt, taking out a revolver, "I think you'll be able to use this better than I could."

He hadn't held a piece since the War. He could see the cylinders filled with bullets - likely all still functional due to the revolver's simple design and the small amount of time they bullets had been in water.

"Thanks Rich," Indiana said, managing a smile as he took the revolver, "See you in a bit."

The ship swayed from side to side as Indy moved across the weather deck. With the anchor hauled in and smoke billowing from the stacks, Indiana realized they had begun to move from behind the natural break. Waves came in from the deep ocean, smashing against the hull and releasing spray over the sides. The crew were retreating inside as the deck became a more and more hazardous place to be, floodlights remaining on and illuminating the ocean and deck - likely as a safety precaution.

Keeping his hood up, Indiana sprinted towards one of the hatches, ahead of the main body of crewmen. Finally out of the rain, the sounds of the storm became muted behind the deck plating and metallic walls of the ship's superstructure. Water slicked off of his raincoat and dribbled onto the floor as he moved towards the stairwell. His first stop was his cabin, where he'd last left Anna for a nap.

He mounted the stairs and headed upwards towards the second floor of the superstructure, one level below the bridge and radio room. Turning a corner in the stairwell, he was quickly forced to hesitate and move back around the corner at the sight of three armed guards standing around in the corridor above, holding casual conversation with each other.

"Who was that?" one of them asked, breaking up their chatter.

"I 'unno," another responded.

Indiana, back flat against the wall back around the corner from the guards, pursed his lips. A million possibilities of events ran through his mind as he hesitated, before he took a deep breath and stuck his hands underneath his coat. As confidently as he could, he turned the corner and began to stride up the stairs.

"Hey!" one of the men, leaning against the left wall with a rifle, "You can't be up here."

The other two also turned. One with a pistol, the other with a double-barrelled shotgun, the former being on the opposite wall from the rifleman and the latter being farther back in the hall. Indiana looked between them all, face illuminated by the electrical lighting, "Want to see a whip trick?"

"Huh?" the one with the rifle asked, gun still aimed towards the floor.

The bullwhip curled out above Indiana's head, before striking out with a supersonic crack towards the man with the shotgun, cranking the gun out of his hands. With his other hand, Indiana emptied a round of his revolver into the pistol-wielder's face, then threw his weight with his shoulder into the rifleman's rifle. A hot gash of pain smeared across Indy's back as the rifle went off, though it was likely it was only the hot gas escaping the rifle's muzzle as the bullet pinged off the deck plating behind him.

On the bridge, the sounds of idle chatter, the rain hammering against the windshield, and the distant rumble of the engines were all suddenly overcome by the sound of a whip's crack and two gunshots from below. Belloq looked up from the map table as the ship's officers also raised their heads in confusion.

"...Jones," Belloq hissed.

Indiana smashed the rifleman over the head with his own rifle, before turning and using his momentum to smash its stock straight into the head of the disarmed shotgunner, who was on the floor reaching for his weapon. Standing in the midst of the room with one man, dead on the floor, and two other men unconscious next to their discarded weapons, Indiana had little time to think over his situation as the sounds of boots scampering above and below him urged him to action.

Turning, his wild eyes landed on his cabin door. Turning the bolt on his rifle, he ran up to the door and aimed straight for the bolt, squeezing the trigger.

Sparks flew as the locking mechanism on the door burst open, allowing him to kick the door open with ease, pulling back the bolt with trained precision as he stormed in. Another shot met him as soon as he came in, scratching right over his left shoulder and impacting the doorframe behind him. Indiana barely had a moment to register the figure of Dr Mariette, standing next to the door with a pocket pistol in hand, before he instinctually turned and squeezed off another round into his stomach.

The pain of being shot in the guts caused the white-suited man to stagger, causing the next two rounds going through his semiautomatic to hit the floor as Indiana charged him. With the now-dented stock of his rifle, Indiana smashed Mariette in the chin, causing him to collapse to the floor, bleeding from a perforation straight through his intestines.

"Anna! It's me!" Indiana said, in perhaps a bit of a manic state as he glanced around in a panic.

There was a dresser, one Indiana knew wasn't bolted down due to its tendency to fall over whenever the ship went through rough seas. He grabbed it, the adrenaline in his veins allowing him to throw it against the door, jamming it shut once again just as the sound of boots came to their level.

As soon as Indiana turned around, his eyes saw Anna, hidden where the dresser had been sitting just moments ago. Her shirt was unbuttoned, wings ruffled, and her forehooves were clamped over her eyes. A single rose-colored eye peeked out from under one of her hooves, before she suddenly leapt at Indiana, wrapping herself around his torso, fur immediately wetting as the moisture from his raincoat soaked into her.

Indiana looked towards the bleeding body of Mariette as he fumbled towards the pistol on the ground, causing him to simultaneously cover Anna's eyes from the sight of the bloodied doctor and kick the pistol away into a corner. As soon as the pistol clattered away into a corner, though, a gunshot rang out.

A hole was punched through the front door of the cabin, hitting the porthole exactly opposite it and cracking it open, missing Indiana's head by a few inches. Anna screamed and Indy ducked out of the way as more gunshots ran out, perforating the room with blind fire from the other side.

"NO WAY OUT MR JONES!" shouted Belloq's voice from the other side, his taunt punctuated by further retorts from the muzzles of guns, filling the room with lead. Soon enough, the door was going to be in enough pieces for them to fire freely through it.

"Hang on to me, Anna, hang on real tight!" Indiana shouted, taking the butt of Richard's revolver and going over to the porthole, trying to make himself as small as possible while shielding Anna from the gunfire. With the wooden handle of the revolver, he knocked the glass shards out of the porthole.

Light spilled into the from the door as Indiana stepped on Mariette's head and propelled himself through the window, tiny remnants of glass on the outer rims of the hole scratching himself and Anna up as they fell out onto the small slice of the poopdeck that lay behind the ship's superstructure.

Landing hard on the shoulder, gashed from Mariette's small caliber pistol round, Indiana rolled and wheezed as he slowly got to his feet. Belloq and his men weren't far behind, though, crawling through the shot-open gap in the door towards the windows. A rifle poked out of the smashed glass shortly afterwards, causing Indiana to surge to his feet and sprint away as a bullet streaked through the air behind him, chewing open a hole in the railing.

Anna, all the time, grabbed around Indiana's ribcage, screaming her lungs out in fear as loud noises, long falls, and danger surrounded her on all sides. Her father sprinted across the deck, heading back upwards towards the middle of the ship, where no doubt Richard was preparing a boat for launch. The dark rear parts of the ship turned into brightly lit midships as he came into range of the floodlights.

A sailor stepped out in front of him, still pulling on his raincoat with one hand as he held a revolver in the other hand. His eyes widened for a moment, though Indiana was faster to the draw. A burst of gunpowder caused Anna's ears to ring as her father's revolver went off inches from her head, but the bullet imbedded itself into the sailor's neck and put him down on the floor before he could pull back the hammer on his single-action.

Indiana, arriving on the right side of the middle deck, took a moment to look around for any sign of his friend. Fortunately, the big guy wasn't that hard to miss, especially as he hurriedly pushed a launch out over the side of the boat. Unfortunately, he was on the left side of the deck, the opposite side from Indiana.

Doubly unfortunately was the arrival of Belloq's crew from the main hatches, right between Indiana and his destination.

The hook of the crane that had been used to pull in the seaplane dangled just above them, swinging slightly with the sway of the ship.

Belloq's eyes went skyward as a whip's crack echoed through the storm. Indiana swung overhead, clinging onto his bullwhip, body covered with rain and silhouetted by the bright floodlights mounted to the front of the ship's superstructure. His former companion was the first to raise his pistol skywards and begin shooting, bullets streaking through the air and hitting the crane arm as Belloq's untrained marksmanship soon allowed him to lose control of his gun to its recoil, spraying bullets erratically.

Better trained thugs raised their guns soon afterwards, but it was too late. Indiana undid the hold of his whip, plummeting to the deck right next to boat and rolling. His ankles still roared with pain, but it was enough to carry his momentum forward into the boat just as Richard also scrambled inside.

Before the thugs could pull the bolts on their rifles, Indiana aimed his revolver skywards, shooting first at the pulley holding one side of the boat up. The launch proceeded to upend itself, though not before Indiana got another shot off and snapped the second rope, sending them falling into the ocean below.

They hit the water with such a crash that ocean sprayed up and over the sides and into the hull. Richard, Indiana, and by extension Anna, all hit the ground with just as much force as the boat hit the water, expulsing air from lungs, cracking bones, and causing shouts of pain. The launch quickly began to bounce around in the waves, hitting the ship's wake and getting carried by it even further away from the Eleanour as it carried on its course forward.

A few bullets hit the waves behind them, but the distance was too much and growing too rapidly. There was a brief moment where Indiana felt Richard grab his collar to pull him out of the water covering the basin of the boat, but soon after that he felt no more, head having smacked off of one of the beams of the boat.

13: Adrift, 1926

The storm died down into a small shower by the next day. Indiana had awoken with a part of Richard's shirt wrapped around the split in his scalp and a killer headache. The wind direction was gauged, and a sail was rigged to help passively carry them in the correct direction - which was east, for all intents and purposes. They were much closer to the American continents than to Asia, and shipping traffic was only bound to get more and more common the further east they went. By Indiana's estimates, with good weather and wind, they had about a month's journey ahead of them.

At least, that was what he had told his fellow castaways. In reality, their position was 50/50. They could be in the North Equatorial Current, being pushed towards a long, deadly journey to Asia as the sail battled against the sea. Or, they could be in the Countercurrent, being pushed towards the Americas in a short time.

In the end, though, he gave them the optimistic estimate of a month to landfall. He was hoping they wouldn't have to actually survive that long, as no matter what they would be dragged across a major shipping lane leading to and coming from the Panama Canal. With any luck, they would happen across a ship within weeks.

That didn't mean he wasn't rationing water very, very closely. Richard had gladly agreed with that, saying they needed to drink their fill while the rain was still coming down and refill their bottles before the storm broke. In return, the adults took their turns rowing, aiming to put extra distance between themselves and the Eleanour, just in case they were able to scramble some sort of search party for them, or track their position.

So, they did, drinking an adult man's share each, and a child's share for Anna, before funneling rain into the single jug of water that came with their meagre supplies and into Indiana's small tin canteen. The rain had died into a patter by the night, when they shared a dinner of stale, tasteless crackers from the emergency supplies Richard had pilfered while waiting for Anna's rescue.

"I'm hungry," Anna complained, reaching for the cracker box as Indiana took it away.

"No more," Indiana muttered, "We don't have a lot. We have to only take a little bit at a time."

"But I'm hungry, daddy!" Anna insisted, drooping her shoulders.

"We're going to have to be very hungry for a long while, Anna," Indiana explained, placing the box back in its cabinet at the head of the boat, "And thirsty. We have a long time until we get to land, we have to ration."

"What does ration mean?"

"It means if you don't have a lot of food or water, you take a very small amount of it at a time to make it last long," he responded carefully, turning around and taking the oars again. They would quit rowing the next day to conserve their energy.

"What happens if we run out?" Anna asked.

Indiana shared a look with Richard, who gave him an empathetic grimace. Indiana reached out and tousled Anna's hair, "Don't think about it, sweetie. A ship will come by and save us."

"I don't wanna go back on a ship..." Anna muttered, looking away as her wings shifted.

"It'll be a good ship. The bad men won't be on the other ships. Only good men like Richard," Indiana assured her, "The people on the ship were just the... naughty men."

"Naughty men?"

"Yeah... naughty men. Very bad people. They wanted to hurt you, Richard, and daddy. Those kinds of guys are bad news," Indiana grunted, hauling on the oars again.

By midnight, the storm broke completely, letting in the stars and the moon. Richard took the last shift on the oars that they would take for the foreseeable future, relying on the sail and, hopefully, the currents to take them to land. The next day brought the sun, which threatened to boil the skin and conjure the sweat. Sweat the men did, of course, as it was humid and tropical. Though, using the canvas the boat had been covered with initially, they constructed a shelter to huddle under to protect them from the sunburn.

"What's sunburn?" Anna asked.

"It's when you stay in the sun too long and your skin gets all red and blistery, then starts peeling," Indiana explained, "It's no good, especially when we have so little water."

"...Huh," Anna mused, looking back out towards to sea.

Richard nudged Indiana, observing, "You know, Indy, I'm not sure Anna can get sunburn, what with all the fur n' all."

"I'd rather not risk it," Indiana had simply concluded. Being in the sun would just make her hotter, and make her sweat more anyway.

Days passed with the same old routine. Check they were still heading in the same direction, take their drinks of water from their quickly dwindling supply, then huddle together in the shelter. The biggest problem then arose: Boredom. Anna was the first to fall into near insanity. Exerting themselves was a terrible idea, so Anna couldn't exactly go for a fly, or a swim. She grew stir-crazy, sitting in their small shade next to the two sweaty adults. Indiana went through his entire list of stories, even making up a few (such as how he fought mobsters in 1920, worked as a stuntman in hollywood in the same year, then went on some wild goose chase with Ravenwood). Nothing helped, she simply got more and more painfully bored and restless.

One time, Anna defied her father's wishes and began to fly, only to get snatched around the hind leg by a bullwhip and dragged back down to the boat. She cried for a very, very long time after that, making Indiana wonder if it was worth the mental anguish.

Surely, surely the exertion wouldn't matter. A ship was right around the corner, right?

Of course not. The sun continued to beat down, not a single cloud in sight, as their boat made the slow trek in what they hoped was an easterly direction. The contents of Indiana's canteen joined the contents of the main jug, before it was completely extinguished. The crackers were cleaned out as well, Anna being fed the crumbs in the bottom.

While Indy had come pretty close with dehydration in the Panamanian rainforest, he hadn't been as close with hunger. As they reached week 3, he learned just how painful hunger could really be. Even in the Army, when supplies were low, he got treated to some meagre slices of mouldy bread. Even when he was being taken to be sold into slavery as a child he'd been given scraps to keep him healthy-looking for the auction.

Hunger eclipsed almost everything as their journey ticked over into the fourth week, without so much as a smoke trail or a seagull's cry. Dehydration took hold soon after as their water rations came completely dry. They tried fishing a few times, even ruining Indy's bullwhip to make a line. They just didn't have enough length to get deep enough, said Richard. The surface water was too hot from the sun, and ocean fish liked colder water.

Just before supplies had run out, they had agreed to give their final shares to Anna, just in case she was somehow able to make it through. It was a grim concept, but it was a sacrifice they were willing to make. Better she have that extra, single remote chance.

Every night, Indiana went to sleep so weak that he wondered if he would wake up in the morning. One day, he woke up to find Anna gone from the boat. The sun blazed down from a mid-morning position, later than when they usually woke up, bearing down on his and Richard's skin as they lay in the hull of the boat. It was no more unusual than every other morning they had awoken to recently, except...

Anna's hoof was stuck down his throat.

Anna woke up, a crick in her back and a the sun rising in the distance. With bleary eyes, she looked to her left. There, the cabinet lay open, the empty jug and cracker-tin inside. Daddy lay on the ground, skin pinkish and blisters on his lips as his beaten up, squashed fedora shielded his face from the sun. To her right, she could see the tent where they would huddle every day to hide from the sun, Uncle Richard lying in a very similar state to Daddy, and a tally mark etched into a wall counting the days they had been at sea.

One time, Anna had heard about what 'death' was. It had been vague and mysterious, as the grownup who had said it soon realized there was a child in the room with him. Usually she'd discount words like that, but then Uncle Rich and Daddy had been saying it to each other in whispers, especially as the days dragged on and they ran out of water. Maybe, she was beginning to understand what the word meant.

Every day, the grownups moved less and less. What happened if they stopped moving at all? Was that what the naughty man back on the ship was going to do with the... gun(?) if Daddy hadn't shot him first?

Anna reached up and wiped the sweat from her brow. The droplets glistened on the end of her hoof as she stared at them... then suckled on them. It was disgusting, dirty, and salty, but she didn't care. She was very thirsty. Everyone was very thirsty. She really wished for a nice, cool glass of water.

She also wished she could be back in Paris. She wanted to go back to the park and chase birds, have a nice big dinner, then go to sleep with a nice bedtime story. Even Daddy's cooking would suffice in this situation, she reasoned.

Anna looked up, to a long, wide sky with a few clouds dotted here and there. Then, a realization crossed over her. She could fulfill at least one of those wishes herself!

After checking extra well that Daddy was actually still asleep, and not just faking, she stood, flexed her wings a few times, and climbed into the sky. Without any of the shade from the sides of the boat, she quickly heated up, but this temperature imbalance was quickly rectified as she took a few dives and swirls through the air, the wind cooling down her body in record time and blow-drying the sweat out of her fur.

This initial feeling of joy cooled into a burning shame as she looked back down to the boat, now a tiny brown dot on the ocean's surface. She was never supposed to fly without a grownup watching and making sure she didn't get hurt. She'd fallen and broken something more times than she could count, and Daddy hated it when she tried to fly without a rope.

That shame slowly turned into a feeling of mischievousness as she looked back up the sky. After so long being cooped up inside, under that damn canvas tent, she could not resist the allure of flying free until she felt like her wings would fall off. So, she continued ascend, higher and higher. Eventually, she became so high that the ocean became a tapestry below, the boat an invisible ant on the surface below.

She was so high that she could see the clouds! She thought maybe she'd be afraid of the heights, the koala in one of her books always seemed afraid of falling out of the trees, but she just felt more free than ever! She felt her breathing change... somehow. It was like she was taking much, much longer breaths as the beating of her heart became silent in her ears. The wind up here was icy, and for the first time in months she felt cold.

A small fear about losing track of the boat came up in her mind, but it was quashed by childish curiosity as she spotted a nearby cloud. Gliding on the wind, she darted straight for it.

The cloud, at first, really didn't look like something that she was going to be able to stand on. It looked like a bank of puffy, oddly-shaped snow at first - something she would plough straight through at her speed. So, it was to her shock when she crashed into the cloud headfirst.

It wasn't too painful, more like a pillow than a hard, concrete surface. She raised her face from the surface of the cloud, cloud... particles(?) clinging to her face and encasing her muzzle. Something liquid ran down her nose, and water soaked through her tongue and gums. The former caused her to sneeze, shooting cloudy vapor out of her muzzle as she shook her head in a daze.

Cautiously, she got back up on all fours, looking around the cloud's surface, "...Huh..." she said to herself. She smacked her lips. They were wet...

Her hooves had sank into the surface of the cloud slightly on impact. Withdrawing one of them, she found it sopping wet, much like it had been when she wiped her brow. However, when she suckled on it this time, the water was cold, pure, and not salty. Like normal water.

Like... normal water!

Anna gasped, jumping into the air for long enough for the wind to blow her forward a few steps. After gracefully landing back on all fours further on the cloud, she looked around, wide-eyed. She'd found the solution! Of course! Rain came from clouds, so it just made sense that clouds were also water! She just needed to get the water back to the boat.

The boat... erm...

Anna spread her wings and flew down from the side of the cloud, tracing a hoof along its side to keep from being blown away from her prize. Below her was only a long, long ocean. Yet, somehow, she felt she knew where she'd come from. Something about the wind, the pressure between her feathers, and the direction of the sun just made her feel confident.

She gave the cloud a tug, ripping out a chunk like it was a hoof-full of cotton candy. She stuffed the chunk in her mouth, the cloud rapidly decomposing into water. It was almost like it was raining in her mouth as she chewed! A nice, big gulp slid down her throat, making the big thirsty go away a bit.

If pulling didn't work, she'd just push instead! Flying back over the top, she began to shove the cloud downwards, following her senses back towards the boat. Eventually, it appeared, a slow-moving dot, an ant on the surface of the ocean. The cloud had stayed more or less intact, leaving a trail of vapor behind itself as she had shoved it through the air. It had about the same weight as a large pillow, or perhaps a few loaves of bread, and was about twice the size of the boat when she finally came to a stop.

Daddy and Uncle Rich were still lying there, eyes closed. Fear blossomed in Anna's heart, followed quickly by a steely determination.

She ripped a chunk out of the cloud and flew over, shouting, "Daddy! Daddy wake up!"

His chest slowly rose and fell. His mouth hung open. Well, if he wasn't going to try and taste the cloud, she'd just feed it to him! Positioning the cloud in her hoof, she began to shove it into his mouth, until her hoof clinked against his teeth.

That shock slowly opened his bloodshot, weary eyes. He snorted, blinking a few times before looking down at her hoof, eyes widening in surprise.

"Anna? What?" Indiana said, water sliding down his throat and quenching a great, painful fire that had lined the sides of his esophagus ever since they had started their journey.

Anna was hovering in the air a few inches from him, a giant smile on her face. A cloud floated overhead, somehow content to hang around mere feet away from the ocean's surface. His daughter refused to explain herself, simply grabbing another chunk of cloud and flying over to Richard, shoving the white, fluffy substance down his throat.

His hand shot to his forehead. A CHUNK of CLOUD!?

Richard, stimulated by the insertion of liquid into his mouth, began to wake up as well, groaning as he sat up and looked around, confused. Anna was doing some sort of frenzied dance in midair as Indiana shakily stood and reached out for the cloud. Surely enough, his hand swept through vapor, coming down wet from the condensation.

"What in tarnation..." Richard gaped, looking up at the cloud as well.

Indiana pinched himself. His sunburnt skin gave him a pang of pain.

"I flew up and found a cloud!" Anna proudly announced, jabbing a forehoof up at the cloud, "It's nice water!'

Indiana took his sopping wet hand and raised it to his mouth, sucking on it. Aside from the slight hint of salt from the sweat that had been on his hand, the water was most definitely pure - like rainwater. Richard reached up as well and took a swipe, looking down in bewilderment to his wet hand.

"That's not how you do it, silly," Anna rolled her eyes, reaching up and just... taking a chunk of the cloud and shoving it in her mouth like it was cotton candy, "That's how!" she said, chewing on the cloud.. somehow.

Indiana's butt hit the bottom of the boat as he nearly passed out on the spot.

"More... please more," Richard said, reaching out towards the cloud, "Feed us, Anna. Please."

"Okay!" Anna said, before grabbing another chunk and holding it out towards Richard in offering.

His hand went straight through the cloud, which began to drift into wisps as soon as Anna let go of it. This time, they both looked in confusion.

"How... are you doing that, Anna?" Indiana asked, looking up with wild eyes towards Anna.

"I dunno... why can't you hold it?" Anna asked, ripping out another chunk and holding it towards Indiana. The same thing happened to him, deepening the equine's confusion.

"Just put it in our mouths," Indiana asked, the still-present thirst bubbling back up in his mouth as the residue from his initial portion dried up.

Anna obliged, feeding the two grownups in a manner that may have been demeaning if it weren't for their desperation. The vapor, trapped in their mouths, quickly condensated, turning into cold drops against their cheeks and teeth and running down their throat as they swallowed. Each chunk was perhaps a sip from a canteen, and each mouthful was cool and soothing.

Eventually, though, there was no more cloud to have. Stray bits of vapor were blown away by the wind, though by then the two men and Anna had received more water than they had ever since they started rationing.

"I'll just go get another one," Anna shrugged casually, before ascending again before Indiana could protest.

Surely enough, though, she came back with another, fresh cloud, plucked straight from the sky as if it was a particularly desirable fruit growing on a tree. This time, Indiana held out the water jug and the makeshift funnel they had created for it. Anna stuffed the bits of cloud inside, where they condensated and slowly filled the jug. Two clouds later, and they were looking at a tired child, but a completely filled water jug.

Anna laid down for a mid-afternoon nap in the shade, having more than earned it. Indiana sat next to her, staring at the jug still in his hands. Sparing a glance over to Richard, he said, "This must be some sort of complicated, dehydration-induced fever dream."

"If it is, we're having the same one and it's very odd," Richard said, placing a hand on the surface of the jug to get some of the cool temperature out of it.

"Dr Richter will shit himself when he sees her doing this," Indiana surmised, uncorking the jug and taking a sip in celebration. As long as there were clouds in the sky, they could replace the fluids inside.

Richard took the jug and took a sip as well, before commenting, "I don't think there's any possible scientific explanation to this. I think you've got an angel in disguise for a child, Indy."

"Anna's crashed one too many chandeliers into her uncle's floorboards to be an angel," Indiana contradicted, taking off his hat and fanning himself with it, "If only she could magic food out of nowhere as well..."

Richard looked over to their makeshift hook-and-line sitting inside the cabinet on the far side of the boat and mused, "...Maybe there is..."

Another cloud was assembled over the boat, casting shade on it. This time, though, its purpose wasn't to refill their water supply, though that was the backup plan if their plan A didn't work.

Instead, Anna was slowly collecting more and more clouds and bringing them into the same cluster. Rather frustratingly, and counter to all the laws of physics and meteorology that Indy knew of, the clouds gathered had just conglomerated together and stayed fluffy and white. Not heavy enough to cause precipitation.

Maybe it would be enough to just crash the clouds into the seawater? No... it'd probably be better if it was a slow, long release. She needed more clouds than what she had there to achieve such a thing, so she kept going out to collect nearby clouds.

She was enjoying it, too. Unlimited flying without adult supervision. Heck, with the cloud floating in front of their boat, it was pretty hard for them to even see where Anna was, so she was more or less free to enjoy herself between lugging more and more clouds into place. Eventually, what they got was the beginning of what Indiana thought was more or less a stormfront.

"Okay, Anna, can you try... combining them or something now?" Indiana shouted up to Anna, who peeked from behind a nearby cloud.

Richard was working on fastening Indiana's knife onto the end of one of the spare oars in a makeshift spear as Anna worked. He looked up as Anna fluttered around the edges of the cloud bank, confused. She eventually just tried pushing on one side, only to push the entire cloud bank a few meters over. She eventually descended and shrugged.

"Okay, well, just push at it from the top and push it into the water, okay?" Indiana instructed, pointing upwards.

Anna shrugged again, going up over the top of the cloud. Landing on all fours on the top, her wings tired from a long day of flying and pushing clouds, she instead found it more productive to begin bouncing up and down on top of the cloud. It's how she packed her toy-trunk after a long day, after all, so it'd probably work on a cloud.

The cloud didn't move. It only got a little grayer and smaller. With a sigh, she spread her wings to push with just her forehooves, the way she'd been doing the entire time.

"Waitwaitiwaitwait!" Indiana called from the bottom, "Do whatever you were doing just there! Keep doing that!"

Anna paused, confused, before beginning to bounce up and down on the cloud. Spongey as it was, it almost acted like a nice, springy mattress. This was fun! Daddy had always told her to stop jumping on her bed, maybe this could be a guilt-free alternative!

The cloud became dark, as if it was a raincloud, before suddenly the sound of rain began to emanate from it. Anna realized her father's plan just as cries of joy came from him underneath.

"Get more clouds! Anna! Keep going!" Indiana shouted over the rain.

Rain poured from the new stormcloud, causing the ocean to boil with rain around it. The water, nearly at sub-zero temperatures as it exited the cloud, impacted with the ocean water, cooling it rapidly. As the artificial rainstorm continued, the water temperature slowly normalized, and fish cruising beneath the warm surface layer of the ocean noticed.

Indiana hurriedly cast his line while Richard readied his makeshift spear. Soon, the water was not just boiling with fish. While Indiana's rod was unappealing without bait, patience and a school of fish swarming the boat eventually allowed Richard to spear their dinner just as it flopped out of the water near the liferaft. Indiana cheered as Richard scraped the fish off into the hull of the boat, allowing his friend to finish the poor creature off.

Anna, that night, tried her first taste of sushi meat. She decided she didn't like it, as it tasted bad and made her tummy upset. Indiana eventually elected to follow Johan's advice to not feed her meats, as it would be a terrible turn of events if their only source of water and rain grew ill from an unsuitable diet.

Fortunately for them, though, the next day that very fact became irrelevant. Anna spotted land in the distance while she was collecting clouds, causing the adults to take to the oars and paddle furiously, strengthened by a full jug of water and a meal of fish. By the end of the next day, their boat approached shore, Anna meeting them on the beach as the boat crunched against sand.

They shared an embrace there on the beach, before they turned and headed inland, arms wrapped around each other and Anna piggybacking on her father.

They would find a road, then began to follow it north. Flagging down a car and talking to its confused driver, they asked where they were. The answer was: Mexico. They had been just a bit further north than they had expected clearly. Overjoyed, they explained their plight to the driver, who agreed to drive them to his family farm.

Sleeping on mats in the barn, real food in their bellies and lukewarm well-water to coat their mouths, they slept until noon the next day.

Marcus Brody had been endlessly worried the past two months.

Indiana had left him with his possessions to be stored as he left France, promising he'd be back 'in a few months' and that he'd write if circumstances required an extension of the time. No letter had ever arrived, no phone calls came, nobody had seen him, it was like he'd just dropped from the face of the earth!

Henry Jones Sr, Ravenwood, the Belloq family, nobody! In his desperation, Brody called every American embassy he could, asking about this missing Mr Jones. Though, of course, there was little they could do to help. It was either he showed up or some police department somewhere found his body.

The wait had gotten so long that even Henry Jones Sr expressed some concern in his and Brody's correspondence. Marcus should've just insisted Indiana leave Anna with him. He felt like a fool. The worst possibilities ran through his mind as he thought of the fates of not only Indiana, but his daughter as well; Marcus's adoptive niece. Had they met their fate in some foreign place? Waylaid by bandits? Bitten by snakes? Consumed by alligators? Stoned to death by monkeys?

Though, fortunately, Marcus got a telegram that nearly stopped his heart with a flood of relief.

AM-IN-NYC-JONES

Taking leave from his work and catching the next available ship, Marcus Brody waited only for Johan to fly into London from Germany to board the same ship as him. Soon, they arrived in New York, where they learned the Joneses had recently been expulsed from hospital after being healed for multiple injuries, dehydration, and starvation.

They'd met late at night, fresh off the boat. Indiana told Marcus all about his travel, about how Belloq had betrayed him, about their rescue attempt, and their stranding at sea. He also told rather fantastical stories about Anna 'catching clouds'. Johan expressed great interest in seeing this in action, and was told he'd get to see it the next day, as Anna was far too tuckered out.

Johan had been the first to leave the hotel he and Marcus were staying at. After showering and getting dressed, Marcus Brody was soon after him, meeting the Joneses and Indiana's friend Richard in Central Park.

Johan sat on a park bench near a fountain, face drawn and hands clutching the handle of his briefcase shakily. Marcus frowned, "You look like you've seen a ghost, Doctor."

"By all things scientific, Brody, I have," Richter said, running his hands across his face and rubbing his eyes, "Was zum Teufel."

Marcus nodded slowly, before proceeding past the distressed zoologist and towards another park bench further in. Indiana and a large-framed African man sat side by side, both looking skywards. Anna flew above them, cruising through the air. To Marcus's mystification, there was no rope connecting her and Indiana together.

"Marcus!" Indiana said, standing and dusting himself off, "Good to see you."

"You seem chipper," Marcus said, reaching out a hand for a shake. Looking the other man up and down, he noticed a definite loss in weight. In general, Indiana seemed a bit gaunt and pale, and sported a heavy tan across most of his visible body.

"Surviving something like that does that to you," Indiana shrugged, taking the handshake. Looking over towards Anna, he raised his voice and shouted, "Hey Anna! Get something for Uncle Marcus and come down here!"

Anna paused in the air, before shouting "Okay!" and zipping off further upwards.

Indiana then turned towards Richard, "Richard, this is Marcus Brody. Brody, this is Richard."

"Good to meet you," Marcus nodded, offering his hand to Richard, who took it.

"Indiana talks about you a lot. Only good things," Richard assured, breaking the handshake and placing his hands in his pockets, "I think Indy wants some time with you alone. I'll go take a walk around."

The historian nodded slowly as Richard walked away. Indiana patted the bench next to him, where Richard was previously sitting. Marcus obliged, sitting down with a sigh, relaxing his weary bones. For seemingly no reason, Indiana suddenly shoved a glass cup into Marcus's hands as Anna approached from the skies.

Marcus's eyebrows knitted together as he gazed at the fluffy, white substance trapped between the girl's forehooves. With a grin, she stuffed the substance into the provided glass cup before spreading her hooves and hugging Marcus heartily.

"Oho, good to see you too, Anna!" Marcus chuckled, the air being squeezed out of his lungs by her grip.

"I love you Uncle Marcus!" Anna said, backing away from the hug, "Enjoy your water!" she said, before rocketing back off into the sky.

"Erh, water?" Marcus looked down at his cup, which was now filled with water, "...Water?"

"Water," Indiana nodded, "She can touch clouds. I think she gave Dr Richter a stroke, though."

"How curious," Marcus mused, tasting the water. He winced as the freezing-cold water chilled his teeth, before lowering the glass and commenting, "I suppose if she can propel herself with such small wings and heavy body mass, anything is possible."

"If it weren't for her, we'd all be dead in the Pacific," Indiana said, leaning back into the bench with a sigh, "If only Belloq hadn't been such a fucking dirty dealer," Indiana spat, demeanour changing as he folded his arms, "I just don't feel safe now, Marcus. What if more people like him are around? What if he tracks us down? What then?"

"It's a shameful indictment on humanity that such slime exists," Marcus agreed, rather enjoying his cool cup of water on the summer's day, "To sell a small child like this into what amounts as slavery. Barbaric."

"I just... I dunno what to do," Indiana admitted, "I was supposed to get paid real, big bucks for that work. Now I nearly got killed, and not even civilization is safe anymore."

Marcus mulled it over for a while, raising his glass and looking through it at Anna as she danced around through the air on the other side. Eventually, though, an idea crept into his head, and he lowered the glass and looked over to Indiana, "Indy, I think I know what you must do."

"What?"

"I think it's time you let the government know she exists," Marcus took a deep breath, "I think it's time you fought for her right as a... sapient form of life to a citizenship and civil protections."

Indiana frowned, "What about Johan's paper?"

"He'll understand," Marcus intoned, before pausing and adding, "As soon as he gets over his shock, of course. You have friends in the military, I understand. I have some contacts I can pull on as well. We'll get every resource we can on task and petition every court we can find. Other scientists may need to verify Dr Richter's claims on her sapience in front of the court, but they will succeed in finding it, I'm sure. If she can be recognized by the government, at least then you shall have someone to call on should trouble arise."

"Right now, I couldn't even call the police if she was being threatened," Indiana agreed, tapping a finger on the armrest.

"And about your doctorate..." Marcus reached out to lay a hand atop Indy's, "If it was between trusting Belloq and asking me to cover your fees, you should have just asked..."

Author's Note

I want a nice, cold cup of cloud now...

Back to more slice of lifey stuff for a while!

14: Oxford, 1927

The door opened, drawing Anna's eyes up from her book. Two sets of shoes clacked onto the wooden boards of the foyer as hinges squealed and the wind blew in from the street. Muttered conversation came as her heart quickened, images from an event not months prior flashing through her mind.

Her father stepped around the corner, and her hackles dropped. With a gloved hand, he took off his fedora and shrugged off his coat, looking towards Anna casually, "Hey, Anna. Where's the sitter?"

Mutely, Anna pointed with a hoof towards one of the doors, where the babysitter's rear end was barely visible as she crouched over the stove.

Indiana called out, "Miss Gallagher?"

"I'll be out in a moment, Mr Jones, just finishing cleaning the stovetop like you asked!" she called back.

While the exchange went forward, Anna's eyes wandered back towards the door, where another figure entered, silhouetted against the late-morning sun shining through the front windows of their apartment. He was a man with a complexion almost ashen in color, his nose extended far from his face and hung with extra skin, a pair of glasses sat on his nose, and he was clean shaven but his bare cheeks sagged almost like those of a bulldog's. His black hair was cut short and brushed back and topped off by a bowler hat. A red, warm-looking scarf wrapped around his neck, a coat that matched the color of his skin was wrapped over a cotton undershirt, and a pair of woolen gloves protected his hands from the climate outside. Slung over his shoulder was a bag, laden with books.

His eyes focused on her, in a way that reminded Anna too much of Him.

"Daad..." Anna called out, shrinking away and hiding her head under the lip of the table.

"Huh?" Indiana answered, walking back over and placing a hand on her shoulder, cooling her nerves slightly, "Oh. Anna, this is your new tutor. This is Mr Sanders, he's your new teacher."

Sanders raised his nose as he regarded her, reaching down to unbuckle the clasps on his bag. With his other hand, he took off his hat and hung it on the rack.

Indiana reached into his pocket, taking out a bill and handing it to the babysitter, who herself was packing her bags in preparation to leave. After paying her, he turned back to the strange man and his daughter, "Is there anything you need to know, Mr Sanders?"

"You were not understating your daughter's level of oddity," Sanders muttered, peering down through his glasses at Anna.

A chill ran down her spine, and her stomach tossed. She lowered her head underneath the table again at his glare.

"I'm fighting for her rights as a living person as we speak, don't worry. I assure you in every other way she is very human," Indiana assured, flexing his hands, before looking down to Anna and patting her on the shoulder, "It's okay. This is a good man. Not a naughty man."

Sanders looked down at her still, though slowly began to orbit the table to pull out a chair and sit down across from her.

"Say hi," Indiana urged.

Anna peeked her head up over the side of the table and whispered, "...Hi."

"She's a bit shy. She was nearly kidnapped by someone a few months ago, so she's a bit scared-" Indiana began, but was interrupted.

"I have dealt with children of all kinds of disposition, Mr Jones. Bratty, angry, unruly, and... shy," he cleared his throat, unslinging his book bag and placing it on the table, "I am sure your child will have nothing I cannot handle."

Anna's ears flattened. Her tail whipped instinctively.

"Well, that's great," Indiana tapped his fingers against the back of Anna's chair, before stepping away and towards the door, "I'll leave you two to it. Be back at around five?"

"As arranged, yes," Sanders nodded impassively, focusing his full attention back on Anna as Indiana made for the door.

"Bye honey!" Indiana bid as he put on his hat and placed his hand on the doorknob, "Have a good first day of school!" a pause, "I love you!"

"...Love you too, Dad," Anna said, barely managing to conjure a voice louder than a whisper.

As the door clicked closed behind Indiana Jones, Mr Sanders fished out a notebook from his bag. On the front, several elegantly hand-written words and sentences had been laid out. He laid both his hands on top of the book and fixed her gaze, "Mr Jones has entrusted your care to me. My full name is Philip Myron Sanders, I am a masters of education, and have taught in many upper class homes and to many families of better breeding than... yours.

"Even though you may be of lower standing than my usual charge, I will be holding you to the same standard as all the rest of my students who have come before you. If your unique... body should pose any obstacles, you shall tell me when they come up and I shall adjust as necessary. Otherwise, you will do what I say and attend to your studies to the maximum level. Do I make myself clear?"

Anna, in all honesty, did not understand the implications of half of what was said to her. However, fear kept her glued to her seat, and anxiety kept her from bringing up any of her concerns. Instead, with a dry mouth and a croak in her throat, she whispered, "...Okay..."

Sanders kept his eyes on her for a moment longer, before nodding and looking down to the notebook, "Miss Jones, despite you being a part of the feminine sex, I have been instructed to teach you as a boy. This means you will be learning Greek as part of your studies and will be educated on the arts and the sciences as if you were a man. This may be more challenging than usual, but if your load be too heavy, it should be your father that you complain to, not I."

"Why should it matter if I was a boy or a girl..." Anna muttered, head still low.

"Men should engage in manly things, such as holding a job with good salary, buying a house, finding a well-mannered wife, and protecting their family. Women should engage in feminine things, such as learning proper etiquette, finding themselves a responsible husband, and raising children. These days, women sometimes need to hold jobs of their own, which means they must learn their mathematics and sciences as the men do. Yet, they still have less need for it," Sanders lectured, before pursing his lips and, for the first time, giving ground on something, "Your father may have a point in your path of education, though. I would doubt you would ever manage to achieve a family."

Anna swallowed a lump in her throat. She considered the repercussions of flying away up into her room and blocking the door until her father came back.

"Do not be afraid. These need not be things a child should be worried about," Sanders eventually said, pushing forward the notebook and turned it to face her, "You are starting late into schooling. I would usually start with my students a year younger. I must assess your reading level. Read everything that you can back to me."

Anna adjusted her seating. The chair that was hers on the table had a large set of extra pillows on it, in order to give her the height necessary to see things on the table. Her picture-book had been pushed aside, replaced by the notebook with words on it. Her father and sitters had always said she was a good reader.

Opening her mouth, she began to recite the first few words, only to be silenced as her tutor spoke again, saying: "Sit up straight. Keep your chin level as you read. Straighten that long neck of yours as well."

And so, she did.

School was hard.

Picture books were fun, short, and had words that weren't so complicated. Schoolwork books were long, had very few pictures, the words were very small, and the sentences were very long. Still, her tutor had lightened up somewhat after hearing her recite most of the words on the page. He had told her he had seen nine year olds with worse reading comprehension.

Then, came the mathematics. She'd been taught to count to twenty over the last year from her father and from one of her books (the most boring one), but Mr Sanders had just taken that weakness as an excuse to push her harder in that field. She'd been given a lecture based on a textbook, then quizzed a few times on numbers until she felt like she was going to be sick.

By five PM, Sanders had fortunately moved on from the subject of numbers to the subject of hand-writing. He showed his first sign of humor when she picked up a pen, shaking his head and muttering to himself about holding pens improperly. Still, she seemed to be able to write well enough to complete the lesson, being given a mere five minutes to breathe before the door opened and her father walked back through the door.

"See you tomorrow," Indiana had wished as the tutor walked out the door.

Tomorrow!?

Yes, tomorrow. She was to see the tutor every single day of the week, except Sundays. On Saturdays, she was to learn Greek. Every other day of the week, she was to learn from her normal curriculum.

"Your father has to go to school every day as well, Anna," Indiana had explained as he kicked the snow off his boots and took off his hat, "And I've got to teach school as well."

Anna hated school.

Today was Sunday. That meant that Mr Sanders was off at church, praying to God. That meant Anna was free all day, and Indiana was home to take care of her as well while he did paperwork. In the afternoon, Indiana would take her to the park and let her fly around.

That meant that day was already a day for celebration, because she didn't have to sit in one place all day and read things. It was a day where she could be allowed to fly around, which was still her most favorite thing to do in the world - especially because now, after she'd touched clouds over the ocean, her father trusted her enough to fly around without a rope attached. He'd not even bothered to buy a new rope when he got to England, and spent all of his money on a new bullwhip instead (He really liked his bullwhip. Anna had asked how much it cost, and he'd simply told her it was 'about as expensive as paying Mr Sanders for the month'. She'd told him that it was okay, she didn't like Mr Sanders that much anyway. He'd laughed her off).

This Sunday, however, was to be particularly celebrated. at around 10 in the morning, two men appeared at their door. Indiana met them, Anna squeezing between his legs as their front door swung open.

"HI UNCLE BRODY! HI UNCLE JOHAN!" Anna screamed as soon as the door opened.

The former tipped his hat, growing a wide smile as he prioritized holding his hand out towards Indiana for a shake. The second immediately crouched and opened his arms, allowing Anna to jump into them and squeeze tight.

"Ohhh, Anna, you are growing bigger every time I see you!" Johan said, wrapping his arms around her and pinning her wings tightly to her side.

Anna pulled her head away from Johan's shoulder, looking towards Marcus, who opened his arms in a similar way. Hopping from Johan to the Marcus, they shared another hug, eliciting a groan as Marcus took on her weight.

"How have you been bearing up, Anna? I hear you've started your schooling?" Marcus asked, allowing her to slip gently out of his grip and back onto the slightly icy front steps of the building.

"Mhm..." Anna muttered, walking back up the steps and turning to stand behind Indiana again.

"You're being taught ancient greek, yes?" Marcus asked, stepping inside as he was gestured within by Indiana, "Can you say hello in it yet? Geiá sou?"

"Gay sou..." Anna said shyly, ears flattening once again.

"Ah, close enough," Marcus said, much to the relief of Anna. She'd been drilled enough on her pronunciation.

"Und wie ist Ihr Deutsch?" Johan asked, stepping inside just after Marcus.

"Sehr gut!" Anna said, a bit more enthusiastically. That was a language she knew a lot more about.

"A few more years, and she'll be an omniglot just like you!" Marcus chuckled, pinching Indiana on the shoulder as they walked by.

They went to eat lunch, which thankfully Indiana had not prepared himself. A few pies from the bakery, then some French-styled donuts (the ones that Anna had picked up a solid taste for during their stay in Paris). The only thing that Indiana had made was orange juice, though it had a weird gritty taste that Anna didn't quite like.

Then, Johan did his usual checkup. He asked her how she was doing in terms of her health. She'd gotten a cold once or twice, but was otherwise fine. Her weight was evening up again after starving on the ocean, and her fur was still noticeably thick even as spring approached outdoors. He checked her teeth, then her wings, then took samples of her mane and tail, then declared her to be in 'perfect health', gave her a lollipop, and instructed her to continue brushing her teeth.

"You should start instructing her on how to maintain her own hooves, Mr Jones," Johan said, packing up his doctor's bag.

"How would you like that, Anna?" Indiana asked, "You learned how to brush and floss last year. How would you like to learn how to trim your own hoovsies?"

Anna simply nodded.

As usual, Marcus had a gift for her. It was always small - unless it was Anna's birthday, in which case Marcus always gave the best, fanciest presents. This year, it was something called a 'colouring book'. Marcus sat beside her while she tried it out, while Indiana and Johan had an 'adult talk' on the floor below.

Anna suspected the grownups underestimated exactly how much she could hear. Her ears, perked and alert, caught every single word of the conversation below.

"They will be convening an investigatorial board to confirm my evidence," Johan said in his serious, grown-up tone, "They will need Anna for live experiments. Nothing invasive, I assure you. They just need to confirm that she is... comparable to a human in intelligence. They will be conducting a series of psychological evalutations, mostly."

"It's been eight months already. Johan, I'm honestly already sick of it. Lawyers, documents, discoveries, witnesses... it's really exhausting. And expensive. Marcus puts on a brave face, but it's costing him a lot to constantly bankroll me... I feel like a big, fat failure sometimes," Indiana responded, his voice also low and serious.

Anna lowered her book, looking up towards the entrance to the stairs leading down.

"I'm afraid the case will get worse before it gets better. The Supreme Court... the judges, even on a decision so seemingly obvious as this, they will drag their feet, Indy," Johan muttered, "But, things will get better."

"It's always going to 'be better later'," Indiana growled, "Being a doctor will have returns later, not now. Getting Anna her citizenship will be better later, but not now. The money will be better later, but not now. Every single thing I do, it seems like it's just... out of my control.."

Anna's shoulders drooped, and so did her ears. She heard no more of the conversation. She thanked Marcus quietly for her new book and went to her room.

Anna was hiding behind the dresser again. Rain roared outside, lightning flashed, and her ears rang. Not there, anywhere but there. Anywhere but this again...

The cabin door was thundering as a thousand fists beat on the other side. A voice screamed out from the other side, "YOU LISTEN HERE, CHILD! DO WHAT I SAY! OPEN THE DOOR!"

Tears streamed down her face. The ship swayed back and forth, making the dresser slide with it, despite all of her weak attempts to remain behind it. An explosion rang through the air, making her ears ring again. Her father lay on the ground a few feet away from her, bleeding from a gaping hole in his gut. She could see his insides, squirming around like they were worms.

Suddenly, his intestines shot out towards her, wrapping around her barrel and legs, dragging her kicking and screaming towards his body. She could hear his wheezing breath, feel the blood soak into her fur, and feel the cold, clammy embrace of his wound swallowing her whole.

Lightning struck again, and she was in her room. However, she was not alone in that room.

The street lamp outside shone through her window, illuminating his face against the pitch black of her bedroom. Glasses, a goatee, and a cruel smile. He stood there, blood staining the area around his gut. Her shirt was crumpled up in his left fist. She couldn't scream or move, powerless in front of the man as he stared down at her, like some sort of predator.

Suddenly, everything broke through. She screamed, the vision disappeared, and she tossed around in her bed, trying to escape her sheets to hide.

Footsteps thundered outside, before the door burst open. However, on the other side was not a vision from her dreams. It was, instead, her father. His ill-trimmed beard, jacket, and shoes still on from when he came home that previous afternoon.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She was too choked up in tears to answer, but she held out her forehooves towards him anyways.

Walking over to the side of her bed, he took her into an embrace, "Bad dreams?"

"Mhm..." Anna muttered pitifully, nodding and smearing tears across the shoulder of his jacket.

Indiana stroked the back of her neck and mane, in a way that sent good tingles down her spine. In a soft voice, he reassured her, "Dad has a lot of bad dreams as well. They aren't real. They can't hurt you."

Anna sniffled, before cracking an eye open towards the far end of her room, where lamplight shone through her window and illuminated a small square on the wall. There was no face there, but she couldn't stop thinking about what had been there.

Later, she drew her curtains to eliminate that shaft of light. However, that didn't stop him from appearing anyway.

When Indiana told her that she didn't need to see Sanders on Wednesdays, she was initially overjoyed. Then, Sanders himself explained that the rest of her days would simply be more heavy with work, any joy she had was promptly squashed. Then, Wednesday rolled around, and she was taken with her father to some sort of institute in the college.

There, men she didn't recognize orbited her constantly. They did all sorts of tests. They checked her teeth, measured her muzzle, plucked a few feathers from her wings, and made her run on a track in circles a bunch of times. Then, they locked her in a room and asked her a ton of questions.

Then, they did that again and again and again, every Wednesday, until it was summer. When she went back to seeing Sanders every Wednesday, she felt relieved. But, it wasn't the kind of relieved that was the good kind, it was the kind that came when a tummy ache passed - she wasn't happy, things were just back to normal.

And normal was BORING. She sat at the table all day, being stared down by that cold, clammy old man who didn't warm up a lick even as the sun began to shine. She had to recite her books back and forth, write until it like her foreleg felt like it was going to fall off, then count backwards and forwards by fives, tens, and twos.

At the height of summer, Sanders gave her an 'examination'. With no input or assistance from him, she was to answer questions from a book about numbers and words, all under the time restraint of a stopwatch Sanders had in his pocket. She answered to the best of her abilities, until eventually Sanders hit a button on the top of his watch.

Sanders moved the notebook she had written her answers on and looked down upon it with a careful eye. Eventually, he nodded to himself, "You have done well with your studies, Miss Jones. Dare I say, you are a bright, young girl."

"...Huh?" Anna blinked, looking up at him. He'd very, very rarely had anything good to say about her. He rarely had anything to say about her at all, and when he did comment on her work it was usually negatively.

"Indeed. You are bright," Sanders took his book bag and began to pack away their textbooks - something they usually only did at the very end of the day, "Do not grow too prideful about yourself, Miss Jones, you have simply exceeded the expectations for a child your age. You are still behind in your mathematics, and your Greek is abysmal. However... if I do not reward merit where I see it, brilliance shall be erased entirely."

Anna blinked again.

"Your father tells me you like to be outdoors, and that you like ice cream and french donuts," Sanders closed the clasps on his briefcase, "Come. We shall go outdoors, get ice cream, eat donuts, and speak frankly with each other."

Anna's jaw nearly hit the table as the man walked over to the door, grabbed his hat, and began to shrug on his light coat. She stared in disbelief so long, in fact, that her teacher had to pause by the door and directly instruct her to go and get on her coat and shoes.

She didn't have shoes. That's what hooves were for, after all. Still, she put on her nice, beige-colored coat and followed Sanders out the front door.

They walked through the college town of Oxford, leaving their area of townhouses and condos to walk the streets. A man of his word, Sanders lead her first to the bakery, where she was instructed to choose her favorite pastries. She needed no encouragement, picking out what she wanted immediately, for which the man immediately payed out of his pocket for.

Anna ate her full donut, sitting on the outdoors seating and watching the horses trot by and the pedestrians alongside them. Once, she messed up and got some cream plastered over her nose, yet she wasn't scolded about her 'etiquette', and was instead just handed a napkin to clean up with. She took the offered napkin and stared at Sanders, passively wondering what sort of illness had made him act this way - and if she could ensure he was infected all year long.

"Have you ever interacted with a horse, Miss Jones?" Sanders asked, slicing a part of his meringue with a fork and raising it to his lips. His eyes followed a carriage as it walked by.

Anna had, indeed, seen plenty of horses back in Paris. She'd apparently seen some in Chicago, though she didn't remember them at all. Her father had told her that it was normal to not remember things from when you were a baby, "I've never touched one. I've seen plenty," she responded, only remembering to swallow after she had finished her sentence.

"They are very similar to you, albeit much larger," Sanders responded, "Four hooves. A muzzle. Though, I would note, they have eyes that face to the sides rather than forward."

"Dad says they're animals. He says I'm not an animal," Anna muttered, taking another bite of her donut after wiping her muzzle again.

"He is likely right," Sanders nodded, taking another delicate slice of his pastry, "I have heard of a horse who learned how to count, yet never one who could recite the alphabet to me aloud."

Anna thought about that one, long and hard. She gave another glance towards a horse as it trotted on by, remembering what the man on the ship had said. About her being nothing but an animal and being property. One of the horses caught her eye, and she looked at the ropes clasped around its muzzle and body. How the rider in the carriage cracked the reins against its back. How it wore nothing.

The horse looked at her for a moment, before whinnying and speeding up, almost as if it was perturbed by the eye contact. Anna reached down into her coat, fumbling at the buttons that kept her shirt secure. They were still closed. She felt her heart racing.

"I appear to have ruined your appetite," Sanders said, snapping Anna out of her reverie, "My apologies. We will bring your donut home to eat later. If you are willing to continue, I will take you to eat ice cream, then I will show you a film."

"..A... what?" Anna asked as her donut was taken away and bagged.

"A film," Sanders said, "Have you never seen a film before?"

Anna shook her head.

"I was sure even lower-income families these days saw films," Sanders huffed, taking both his bagged treat and hers into one hand, before gesturing for her to stand up, "Come along. We will see one now. Whatever's on at the theatre, as long as it has good moral character."

As it turned out, what they were going to see was something called 'King of Kings', which was a movie about somebody called Jesus Christ. He was a very very very old person, who was very important to religious people who went to church. Sanders told her that He was still alive, which made Anna think he must be older than most people she knew. Even older than Marcus, that was for sure. They had gotten ice cream from a concessions stand, and were ushered into a seating area to see the film.

First was a section called the Newsreels. It was, apparently, something you could pay to see separately from the film, but Sanders had insisted he wished to see the 'News' by himself. It was all very boring, and she fidgeted until Sander's firm hand made her to sit still. If she could do it at home for school, she could do it in a theater.

This was true, and eventually the newsreels did end, and the film began. Music began to play as words appeared on screen, which Sanders ordered Anna to read, quietly. Images of characters and places were shone on the screen, and whenever the character's mouths moved more words would appear on the screen - which apparently represented what they were saying.

The film followed Jesus, who didn't look old at all, as he went around healing people. He took something called a demon out of a child, saved a woman from getting rocks thrown at her, and refused an offer of a kingdom from Satan - who Sanders said was a very, very, very naughty man. The naughtiest of men, even. All the naughty men in the world, he said, were naughty because of Satan.

Anna remembered the Man from the Ship's goatee and could instantly see the resemblance.

The film ended with Jesus being nailed to a big, wooden cross by people called Romans. Romans, apparently, were an ancient civilization that her father studied from time to time - a lot like the Egyptians, except older... or at least she thought they were older. The Egyptians were still around, but the Romans weren't, except for a place called the Vatican City, which was a place she recognized from her maps.

Jesus, however, came back from the dead, something apparently only he could do successfully. He proclaimed that "I am with you always", and then the words faded into an image of a real life city.

Anna didn't really get it, but she had to admit she was pretty enamoured by the images, the music, and the story. Sanders simply patted her on the shoulder and helped her clean up as they left the theater, the sun being significantly lower into the sky than it had been when they first entered. To top the entire day off, when they returned home, Sanders offered to read Anna's favorite book to her. That was how Indiana found them as he came home - with her bouncing on his leg as they read together.

The next day, it was back to normal. Sanders had his serious face on again as Anna read, counted, and wrote. The promise, however, that there would be another day like that by the end of the year if she continued to be a 'brilliant student', made her just a little bit more energetic.

Maybe school wasn't so bad.

The latter parts of the year were filled with quite the hullaballoo. First, she was taken to some place called the British Broadcasting Company to talk to someone called a reporter. Indiana was there to make her less nervous, but soon a microphone was shoved into her face and she was made to answer a bunch of questions. They started simple, asking her for her name, to tell them about herself, and about what she did on a daily basis.

"My name is Anna Jones. I look like a little horse, but really I'm just a normal girl. Most of the time, I do schooling with my tutor, Mr Sanders. I like to fly around in the park and eat ice cream."

The reporter's questions got more and more complicated and personal. They asked her if she was able to talk to horses (horses couldn't talk, of course), they asked her how far she could fly (very far), and asked her about how the court case was going.

She didn't know the first thing about any 'court case', but fortunately Indiana answered for her. He told the reporters she would be travelling to the United States to go to 'Supreme Court' next month.

Sure enough, they boarded a ship the next month to travel back across the Atlantic to New York. Then, they travelled by train to Washington D.C., which Anna already knew was the capital of the United States of America. She vaguely remembered being there once before with Uncle Brody, who was there to greet them and watch over Anna as Indiana did important, grown-up stuff.

While in Washington D.C., a lot more reporters came to talk to her. She was invited to another radio station, which Indiana came along with her to. There, they asked many of the same questions they had back in London. Anna answered almost exactly the same way, though she still didn't know much about any court case. Nobody seemed to care that she didn't know much, which was strange because it seemed to be all they wanted to talk about with Indiana.

Grownups were weird.

Johan came over with new clothes. These weren't the clothes Anna was used to, though. This was a pretty dress. She'd not gotten any dresses before, and she knew why. Whenever she tried to walk around in them, she'd keep stepping on the cloth, which she was told not to do. This resulted in her having to move painfully slowly, which was made extra annoying when they placed a frilly hat on her head.

"Anna. This is really important that you look pretty and proper, okay? If we impress the judges enough, they'll give you a Citizenship. That means that if someone tries to steal you again, the policemen will go and help me stop them. I need you to be really, really brave, okay?" Indiana assured.

Anna swallowed a lump in her throat.

After being given an extra long bath and being trussed up into her dress again, she was taken to the Supreme Court. It was a giant, fancy building made out of white stone. A crowd of reporters stood out front, camera bulbs exploding with flashes of light as they took photographs.

Anna was at serious risk of getting stepped on as reporters crowded around her, so at some point she ended up taking flight to be above their heads. There, though, she was exposed to hundreds of flashes as thousands of muddled words were shouted at her by the reporters, their notebooks and cameras following her all the way up the stairs, even as the policemen came in to hold the crowd back.

Then, after a very, very long wait that made Anna very bored, they were ushered into an inner sanctum. A panel of men, all in funny looking robes, watched her and Indiana entered. A greasy-looking man sat next to Indiana, a huge array of documents and notebooks out in front of him. He yammered away to the men in robes for a very long time about a manner of subjects Anna could never understand.

Eventually, one of the men in robes leaned forward and said in a commanding voice: "Anna Jones will approach the bench to be examined."

Indiana gave his daughter a reassuring nod, "It's okay. Just go up and tell the truth."

She looked forward, up at the men in robes. Her heart thundered and her ears rang. Somewhere deep inside, though, she firmed herself. She was going to be brave. Everything was going to be okay. She was smart, strong, pretty, and could outfly everything in the room with her!

Anna, rather than awkwardly step out of her seat in her dress and walk out into the big space between the chairs and the judge's 'bench', made the logical decision of spreading her wings and flying up to them. The men in uniforms in the wings of the courtroom seemed to be made nervous by the move, and several whispers and murmurs filled the hall from the audience members lining the rows behind them.

Anna landed atop the desk, right next to a nameplate, making the robed man sitting at it raise an eyebrow, "Hi," she said.

"Hello," the robed man offered in return. The other robed men to his sides leaned towards each other and whispered, though he ignored them as he leaned forward and adjusted his glasses, "Miss Jones."

"That's me!" Anna said, puffing out her chest.

"Are you aware of the gravity of your situation?" the robed man asked, steepling his hands in front of him.

"I dunno what gravity means," Anna said, honestly.

The robed man, fortunately, just chuckled, "How important do you think this situation is?"

"Very important! Dad needs the policemen to help steal me back if someone ever tries to hurt me!" Anna said, voice squeaking a bit at 'hurt me'. She re-firmed herself, though, shuffling her wings at her sides.

The robed man nodded, "The law says that something that isn't human can't receive help from the policemen. The law says that everything living that isn't human is something called chattel. That means whoever has chattel can treat that chattel however they want, without policemen saying how they do it," a pause, "Do you understand what I'm saying, miss?"

"Because I'm an animal, the policemen can't stop people from hurting me," Anna said, lips turning into a deep frown. Her ears began to droop.

"Very perceptive," the robed man nodded, smiling slightly, "Do you think that's fair?"

"Nuh uh!" Anna insisted, ears perking again as she shook her head, "I'm not an animal. Horses are animals, but a horse can't talk, or recite the alphabet, or watch moving pictures, or wear clothes, or read."

"They can't do most of those things, yes," the robed man admitted, "Miss Jones. Do you think you're a human?"

"Mhm!" Anna nodded.

"Why? Humans don't have hooves or wings."

"Some apples are green, some are red. Just cause they're one way or the other, doesn't mean they're not an apple," Anna posited, "An apple is an apple if it grows on an apple tree and tastes like an apple. My dad is a human, which is kinda like growing from an apple tree, and if you tasted me I might taste a lot like a human!"

Laughter echoed across the courtroom, confusing Anna slightly as she glanced around the room. Even the men in robes chuckled a bit.

"Do you think there might be others like you out there?" the robed man asked, as soon as the laughter had died down.

Anna had never, ever before in her life, really considered that. She scrunched up her muzzle, "...I dunno."

The man in robes slowly nodded, before his hand made a shooing motion, "You are dismissed. You may return to your seat, Miss Jones."

Anna didn't return to the courthouse for two entire weeks. Most of the time in those weeks, she stayed with Marcus as her father continued to do more and more adult stuff, inside the courthouse and elsewhere. One day, though, she was told to dress up again, and was carted back off to the courtroom.

Somehow, EVEN MORE reporters crowded the steps of the Supreme Court. Cameras flashed at such a rate that Anna was left with spots in her eyes. There were even these fancy cameras with two, big reels that went round and round as they recorded. Farther back, away from the reporters, there were people with signs shouting at the top of their lungs all sorts of things. Indiana instructed her sternly not to read their signs as they marched up the steps of the courthouse. This time, policemen weren't the ones to part the crowd, it was soldiers with helmets and rifles.

The same, robed men greeted them within the courthouse. Looking down imperiously upon them, there was no boisterous talking from the greasy man with all the papers. There was no chatter from the crowd, or instructions from Indiana aside from "be quiet".

"Mr Jones, Miss Jones," the robed man from before said, as soon as everyone was seated, "The Supreme Court is no stranger to strange cases. However, this, I must say, is a first not only for our young nation but for the world as a whole. The very prospect of allowing a non-human the rights of a human as outlined within the Constitution and the Declaration is a step to a dimly lit platform over a very dark and unknowable abyss."

Indiana nodded. Anna mimicked him, even though she didn't understand the words.

"The evidence, however, is undeniable. In terms of psychology, Miss Anna Jones is in every way a human girl's equal. Therefore, with this court's decision, I am afraid we must open our eyes to the possibility of things non-human being deserving of the rights of a human," the robed man reached for a gavel, "The Supreme Court has decided to rule in favor of the Joneses, against the Department of State. The defendant will make, with all haste, to grant Miss Anna Jones the citizenship she has been so undeservedly been withheld."

Suddenly, Indiana clutched Anna close. His hands dug grooves into her shoulder as he shook with joy. Cheers came from around the courthouse as the gavel struck, causing Anna to smile as well.

She would be able to take off the dress now!

The Joneses prepared to leave Washington D.C. shortly after. Reporters besieged their hotel room, though they only got two opportunities to lob their questions - once when they left for the photo studio, and once when they got back.

Eventually, Indiana came into their room, giddy with excitement as he held out an envelope towards Anna. She opened it with curiosity, revealing a small, leatherbound book. On the front page was the photograph they had taken, along with a big, circular stamp. She was told to quickly sign her name, something she had learned how to do from Sanders, in an indicated space then read what was on it.

PASSPORT
-***-
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

DEPARTMENT OF STATE

NAME OF BEARER: Anna Katie Jones
SIGNATURE OF BEARER: A.K. Jones
BEARER'S ADDRESS IN THE UNITED STATES: 25 Pine Road, Ferndale, New York
BEARER'S FOREIGN ADDRESS: 22 Symonds Street, Oxford, United Kingdom
In case of death or accident notify:
NAME OF PERSON TO BE NOTIFIED: Henry Walton Jones, Jr.
EXACT ADDRESS: 22 Symonds Street, Oxford, United Kingdom

Author's Note

fun fact:

Pretty much every deity canonically exists in some way in the Indiana Jones universe.

another fun fact:

The United States address listed on the passport may be familiar to hardcore fans.

15: Bedford, Connecticut, 1927-1928

Rain drove down upon the streets of Oxford, as it so commonly did in England. The grey clouds overhead betrayed only the slightest hint of sunset as the front door of the Jones residence swung open. Light spilled from within across the cobblestones towards a car parked up on the curb, its engine running and windshield wipers working furiously against the downpour.

Holding his fedora closely down over his head, Indiana sprinted from his door to the car, quickly climbing into the shelter of the cabin with a shiver as the rain pattered off his delicate suit jacket and wetted his dress-shoes.

"Good evening, Dr Jones!" Marcus Brody, sitting at the wheel of the car, cheered as Indiana closed the door behind himself.

"Can't prove I'm a doctor yet, have to wait for the paper to come in the mail!" Indiana Jones chuckled, a dumb grin on his face as he took off his fedora and leaned back in his seat.

The car began to move as Marcus put it in gear, pulling it off the curb and down the street, "I read your dissertation last night. Your final draft was excellent. Perhaps a bit to be desired in terms of the academics, but the information itself?" Marcus took a hand off the wheel to mimic a chef's kiss, "Very illuminating."

"Thanks. The Faculty Council had pretty similar notes for me," Indiana nodded, "Where we going?"

"Your favorite place. My treat, of course," Marcus grinned, "I am more than sure you have earned your stripes as a doctor... what's the next doctorate, then?" he teased, lightly tapping Indiana on the shoulder with a fist.

"No thanks. I think I've had enough college to last a lifetime," Indiana laughed, tossing his head, "Just in time to end the semester here too."

"Indeed. I've heard you were in the papers... recently?" Marcus asked, giving a quick glance towards Indy before snapping his eyes back towards the road.

Indiana had met one of his students - a girl named Campbell - who had claimed to have discovered some sort of golden scroll that proved Merlin existed. Soon enough, he'd been swept up into a big conspiracy, fighting a druidic cult in ancient celtic ruins, disrupting a ritual in Stonehenge...

He had to admit- he'd enjoyed it.

"It wasn't anything big," he shrugged, "Just some cultists."

"...Right," Marcus nodded slowly, before glancing down towards Indiana's belt, "You carry a gun on you at all times now?"

"Yeah," Indiana admitted, hand going down to brush against the holster barely hidden under the flap of his jacket, "I'm not going to lie, I'm still really paranoid after Belloq."

"I am too," Marcus agreed, "Getting her to be recognized by the courts was a good first step. I don't think it will dissuade the truly determined."

"Thanks, Marcus, I needed to talk about this on graduation day," Indiana said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he ran a thumb across his jaw, eyes peering out of the passenger window.

"I'm sorry. You know me, I'm a worrier," Marcus Brody apologized, downshifting as they approached their destination, "Here's a surprise that might cheer you up."

"Huh?" Indiana muttered, reaching for the door handle as the car parked outside of the eatery. The restaurant wasn't the surprise - he'd been told about it in advance. So...

Standing under the awning in front of the entrance was a familiar face, his daughter standing next to him. His eyes sparkled behind his glasses as the light shone from the windows around him.

"Ravenwood!?" Indiana asked, pausing in the rain for a moment.

"Dr Jones!" Ravenwood reached out a hand, shaking his hand as they both came to stand under the shelter of the restaurant, "It would appear today we meet as peers!"

"Aw man, it's good to see you, Abner," Indiana furiously shook his hand, sparing a glance towards Marion.

She had grown up since they last met. She was a fully grown woman now, which made sense to Indy - by now she would be 18 years old. She wore her hair in a bun, stood a bit shorter than him, and wore a shirt and pants rather than a dress - as every other woman in sight did.

"Hi," Indiana said casually.

"Dr Jones," Marion nodded back.

"Let's head inside, please, it's pouring," Marcus pleaded, being crowded out of the awning.

They headed inside and were promptly seated. After being given menus and ordering something, they settled down into casual conversation as the rain pattered against the windowed facade and the warm interior lights washed over them.

"I am yet to see your dissertation, Dr Jones," Abner Ravenwood commented, "You said it was on stratigraphy?"

"No, that idea was stolen by a... certain frenchman," Indiana shook his head, "Goes to show how some people are when they don't need to keep up appearances."

"Who?" Marion asked, looking between the men at the table, confused.

"Don't worry about it," Abner dismissed with a shake of his hand.

A waiter came by with their champagne, making Marcus cackle slightly and rub his hands together. Marion, meanwhile, gave an insulted look towards her father, "I'm an adult now. Why don't I get to know?"

"He's just some guy I used to work with who double-crossed me," Indiana said to Marion, appeasing her curiosity.

"Thank you!" Marion huffed. Abner simply shook his head.

"I ended up writing my dissertation on trade and cultural exchange along the Levantine coast," Indiana said, finishing his explanation as Marcus popped the top off of their champagne bottle.

"Egyptology," Ravenwood grinned, "Your mentor taught you well, eh?"

"Sure did," Indiana nodded, taking the bottle from Marcus and pouring his own glass. Marion held out her glass towards him, which he automatically began to fill, though paused as Abner sighed heavily.

He withdrew the neck of the bottle as Marion giggled, withdrawing her hand with its full glass. Abner looked at his daughter, disappointedly, then turned the same gaze upon Indiana, who blinked in confusion back at him. After a moment, Abner just shook his head and reached for the bottle, which he was given, all while Marion sipped happily.

"So, Indy, what's next? Planning on staying at Oxford?" Marcus asked.

"I'd rather move back to the States, personally," Indiana shook his head, taking a polite sip of his champagne, "You're moving back to the states. So is Anna's tutor."

"Oh? To what state?" Marcus then probed.

"Connecticut. New Haven. Apparently his wife is American and wanted to return home," Indiana shrugged, "I doubt I'd get a job here."

"I might have some connections to set you up with a position," Abner offered, a slightly coy smile crossing his face as he finally took his eyes off his daughter and grasped his own glass.

"Yeah?" Indiana raised an eyebrow.

"Have you ever heard of Marshall College?"

"One of my professors at the University of Chicago used to teach there," Indiana recalled, before wincing, "Isn't that place just the poor man's Yale?"

"You would think that, considering Yale is just a short hop away," Abner admitted, "But it's really quite a nice institution. They pay solid, standard rates, they have a respectable curriculum, and they're in a lovely New England college town. Bedford is a nice, safe community. Great place to raise Anna right. I would look for a similar situation myself if I wasn't constantly on the move."

Marion's face twitched, and she averted her eyes from her father at that.

Indiana glanced between them awkwardly, "I'll... check them out as soon as I'm back Stateside. If Bedford's close enough to New Haven, maybe I could even keep the tutor on..."

"Good. I'll write some of my friends there, I can't promise they'll give you any special treatment, but they should give you something to do that can pay the bills. You can work up from there, I'm sure," Ravenwood nodded, only giving a few quick glances towards his daughter.

"How is your work going, Abner?" Marcus spoke up, slowly nursing his glass, "I hear you've been on a long chain of fieldwork?"

"It could be going better," Abner said, a frown forming on his face, "I think the University of Chicago thinks I'm crazy."

"A lot of smart men have been called crazy in the past, Abner. Things like the Ark are what we got into archaeology for," Marcus gave a weak, but comforting smile. Indiana nodded in agreement.

"My next dig will be in Nepal, I think," Ravenwood lowered his head, "A lot of my funding has been cut. So I'll have to be much more... economical."

"How does the Ark of the Covenant relate to the Orient?" Indiana asked, confused.

"Well the extended Tanis digs were all a bust, I'm starting to think my original Egyptian hypothesis was a dead end. For all I know, my colleagues were right in the first place and the Well of Souls was just a place someone important was buried. I'm starting on a theory to do with Alexander the Great's journey across the middle east into Asia..." Ravenwood trailed off, before shaking his head, "I don't want to gloom up your special dinner, Dr Jones. Perhaps you'll assist me someday? Once you're all settled down?"

"Yeah, of course," Indiana said softly.

That winter, Anna was instructed to begin packing all of her things, except her bedsheets and a few other big items, into a suitcase with her name stenciled into the side of it. Her possessions were mostly clothes, along with a selection of gifts from her uncles. She had the binoculars she was gifted for her fifth birthday, a slightly worn world atlas, a notebook that she was keeping a diary on, a small writing and art set, and a bunch of toys.

As usual, she couldn't keep all the toys she owned, as it just wouldn't all fit in their bags. Still, she kept her favorites. She had a stuffed rabbit, which had had its legs and arms chewed off multiple times over her earlier years. They were inseparable. She had the model birds from her uncle, a few coloring books that hadn't been fully completed, a deck of cartoonishly illustrated cards, and a set of luxury wooden dolls that Marcus had bought for her one birthday.

Sanders instructed her to complete a few samples of required reading and to return a short essay about her trip.

"You and your father are fortunate. We happen to be moving back to the United States at the same time," the old schoolteacher said at the end of their last lesson of the year, "I will see you in the new year, Miss Jones. Be a good girl, and have a good school holidays."

They boarded a ship heading out towards the United States. Anna watched from the railing as England slowly faded into the distance, embracing the sea air and the high breeze of the Atlantic Ocean. Of course, the trip reminded her of the incident on the Pacific. Her nightmares grew worse every night she spent on the ocean, until eventually her father had her sleep in his cabin in an attempt to comfort her. It helped... but only a bit.

Their ship arrived in New York Harbor. Anna inquired on whether or not they'd be able to see Richard again. Apparently, he had found a loan to buy a small ship and was operating out of Floridian ports. It was hard work and undependable money, but he said he was enjoying it more than his previous work.

She was happy that he was happy.

For the first time, Anna used her new passport. The officer at the customs terminal even tipped his hat to her, saying he recognized her from the papers. She got to admire the new stamp on one of the pages of her passport as she walked through and into the city proper. There were now two stamps in the passport - one from entering the UK and one from coming back to the US.

They got aboard a train, but they were going a much shorter distance than they had ever gone before. Indiana was about to tell Anna where they were going, when the conductor called them to board. In all the hullaballoo of getting aboard and getting to their seats, he never got to finish his explanation.

"We're going to Connecticut," Anna eventually concluded, looking down at her atlas.

"...How'd you know?" her father asked, finishing stowing his luggage and ducking into their seating booth.

"We're going east," Anna reasoned, "And the train is only 2 hours long. So we're not going to Rhode Island."

Indiana blinked a few times, before reaching over and patting her on the head, "You're smart, you know?"

"I know," Anna said, confidently.

That elicited a chuckle from him.

The train continued to chug. They crossed the state borders, a billboard passing by the railroad proclaiming that they were entering 'The Nutmeg State'. The train passed through New Haven, and after a quick rest and changing their lines, they travelled north on the New Haven - Hartford line. However, they weren't riding said line all the way to the end, their journey ended halfway as they entered a sleepy, snow-bound college town.

Small, New England houses were built around a town center, the most prominent of the buildings there being a stadium. A rectangular Green split the town center, though it was completely eclipsed by snow. Trees, barren of their leaves, stretched their limbs skywards as they shivered slightly with the wind, some sown between the streets of the town while on the far side of the town from the rail line a forest stretched into the distance.

"Now arriving at Bedford! All off for Bedford!" the conductor bellowed.

"Here we are," Indiana muttered, tapping Anna on the shoulder and pulling her away from the window as the train's brakes squealed and they pulled down the icy tracks into the station.

With their luggage and the clothes on their backs, the Joneses took a brisk walk through the town. Anna's coat was sufficiently thick to protect her from a lot of the biting cold and high winds, but her father insisted she wear a jacket anyway, which did not play nicely with her fur and made her itchy. They arrived at a real estate office, just before it closed.

"Dr Jones?" the clerk asked, looking up from her book as the two came to the desk.

"Yeah. We're in time?" he responded.

She nodded, before reaching below her desk and holding out a set of keys towards him, "Thank you for your patronage."

"Yeah. Don't thank me. Thank the bank. They're the ones who own it," Indiana chuckled, pocketing the keys and walking out. Anna asked why he hadn't given them any money, and he explained the entire deal had already been closed over wire.

It was from there that they walked, Anna eventually electing to fly around and scout out the town while Indiana slowly strolled forward towards a neighborhood on the far end of the town. A row of identical houses were sheltered by barren hedges on their front lawns and trees towering over their backyards.

One house in particular was where their journey finally ended. A sign was pitched on the front lawn, reading "Gilbert-Humphrey Real Estate: 3 bed, garage, newly renovated, central heating, ~~6,327$ or best offer~~ SOLD!"

The keys Indiana had obtained from the real estate agent fit perfectly in the front door. Anna entered, right behind her father, exhausted from a day of travelling and an hour or so of stretching her wings. Indiana, however, seemed rather giddy as he flicked on the lights to illuminate an empty, drafty house.

The front door emptied into a small, square entryway room. On all three sides were doors, creating a seal against the winter cold coming through the main door. Through the door leading forward was a staircase, leading up to a second storey. To the right lead into a kitchen, beyond which was a washing room and a door into the back yard. Through the left was a small rectangular room with a booth window looking out over the front yard, and a set of double doors leading to a large square space with a side-door leading to a path that ran between the main house and the garage. On the right side of the square room, just underneath where the stairs ran, was a door that opened to expose the natural gas boiler and the mains. Opposite the door under the stairs was a traditional brick fireplace, a little bit of ash still sitting under the cold, iron firewood holder within.

Indiana quickly opened the gas main and lit the pilot light, the heater slowly beginning to reverse the biting cold wafting through the house.

Up the stairs was a row of two bedrooms on the left, a bedroom and a study on the right. At the end of the upstairs hallway was a hatch leading up into the attic and a bathroom. Finally, right next to the head of the stairs was a linen closet.

"Home sweet home!" Indiana proudly declared, looming over Anna as he leaned on the wall behind her.

Anna looked back up at her father, away from the cold, empty house. She raised an eyebrow, "Where's all the stuff?"

"Huh? What stuff?" Indiana asked, throwing his suitcase in through one of the bedroom doors.

"The beds and chairs and stuff," Anna frowned.

"We bought unfurnished," Indiana said matter-of-factly. Anna tilted her head at him, prompting him to elaborate, "In Paris, we rented and furniture came with the apartment. We did the same thing in Oxford. We own this house, so I don't have to pay any more money to keep staying here, we can live here forever."

Anna nodded to herself, before scrunching her muzzle, "But you said you didn't own it, you said the bank owned it? Wouldn't that mean you're renting it from the bank?"

Indiana folded his arms, "...The bank loaned me money, which I used to buy the house. I gotta pay them every month, for the next few years, and then I'll have paid all the money back."

"Like you do with Marcus?"

A pause, "...Marcus is my friend. I don't need to pay him back."

"But you will anyway?"

"Yes."

"Then what's the difference?"

"The difference is that if I don't pay the bank, they'll take the house back," Indiana said flatly, before straightening up and walking past her, running a hand through her mane, "But that won't happen. Because your Dad's going to become a school teacher and make lots of money."

Indiana began to walk and, with very little else to do, Anna followed him down the stairs. He stopped in the kitchen, holding out a hand towards the empty space between the dusty cabinets and empty pantry.

"Look here. We'll buy a refrigerator. A proper refrigerator - not an ice box. One that runs off of electricity," He said, a grin on his face. Then, he walked over to the stove and turned the dial on the front. It clicked a few times before it lit with gas, "Gas stove. Gas oven. Central heating. Modern construction."

Anna frowned and blinked. She looked left and right, seeing nothing but empty corners and unkempt kitchen structures. She turned her gaze back to her father, unimpressed.

Indiana gave a few nervous glances towards her, before he switched the stove off and walked over to the washing room, "I think we'll get a proper washing machine as well. I saw they were making ones with electric motors in France. I bet we can get one here as well. It'll fit right there," he jabbed a finger into the dark, closet-sized room.

She frowned, gazing at the slightly rusty washbasin in there and the frosty window casting dusky sunset beams through its panes.

Swallowing, her father moved past her back towards the left side of the house, "Dining table here," he gestured around the rectangular room directly next to the foyer, before pushing through the double doors into the wide space, "Lounge here, I think. We'll get an armchair- no two armchairs, right next to the fireplace. My own radio as well, so we can listen to whatever we want."

He turned back towards Anna, who was still awkwardly standing in the center of the room watching him rant.

"...Dad. I'd really like a bed," Anna frowned, ears drooping.

He gave a nervous chuckle. That night, they both slept in blankets on the floor with clothes for pillows.

"It's the holiday season, sir, we can't deliver furniture. Christmas is just in two days," the man at the furniture store had said, "We'll get it to you as soon as possible. I'm sorry but it's not fair on us either. The furniture's all yours. You're welcome to try and carry it home yourself, if you want. Otherwise we'll just hold it in stock until new year's."

Defeated, cold, and weary, Indiana walked home with nothing but two chairs under each arm and a silverware and dish set crammed inside of his satchel. At the very least, they weren't going to be eating on the floor like pigs that night. Anna flew a few inches over his head, rubbing her back. All she needed to carry was a new frying pan, while Indiana waded through the icy turf below.

"Dad. When are we going to get the bed?" Anna questioned.

Indiana growled, nearing the end of his own rope, "Next year."

"WHAT!?!?" Anna shouted, hackles raised, before she eventually calmed down, "Oh... new years' is in a week."

"Mhm..." Indiana muttered, arms screaming from the tension of carrying such a heavy load just as they turned a corner towards their street - Sandfield.

Indiana frowned as they reached their address. A group of people were knocking on the front door, dressed up in winter garments, and muttering amongst themselves. A woman, a man, and a boy. The woman was of medium build, just a bit taller than the man with fair skin and black, bobbed hair. The man was short, rather scrawny-looking, with lanky proportions, pale skin, and brown hair. The boy was not more than ten years old, though definitely beat out Anna in height. He had a mop of blonde hair and a skin color that matched the woman's.

"Can I help you?" he shouted out, dropping one of his sets of chairs. His fingers brushed against the holster concealed beneath his jacket.

The woman turned, before catching sight of Anna and jumping slightly. The man did so as well and paused for a moment, before looking towards Indiana and saying, "You live here?"

"Yep," Indiana said simply, "Who're you?"

"We're your new neighbors: The Morrisons. We live just next door," he jerked a thumb towards the house just over the hedge. The lights glowed in the windows, a snowman was built outside, and a small playset was built in the back yard.

"Your... that's from the paper!?" the woman said, voice incredulous as she pointed towards the small, flying horse.

"Hi," Anna muttered, hovering behind her father's back.

"She's a naturalized citizen of the United States now," Indiana said confidently, placing his free hand on his hip, "I'm Jones. Indiana Jones. This is my daughter, Anna."

"Lloyd Morrison," the man introduced, placing a hand on his two companions, "This is my wife: Rebecca Morrison, and my son: Jeremy."

Anna peeked over Indiana's shoulder, meeting Jeremy's eyes. He gave a goofy smile and waved, causing her to nervously wave back.

Indiana nodded slowly, reaching down and picking up his dropped chairs, "Sorry. We just moved in yesterday. I don't even have a kettle to put tea on for you."

Rebecca shook her head, "Oh, no problem. Come over to our place," she grabbed her husband's arm and jerked him in the direction of the Joneses, "Help him out, honey," she hissed.

"Right, right," he said, flustered. Meeting Indiana halfway, he took half of the chairs off of him, freeing up a hand for Indiana to unlock his doors and chuck the furniture he'd retrieved inside. After nearly denting one of the walls with a lazily thrown frying pan, the Joneses went back outside and re-locked their door.

To the neighbor's house they went, only to find a home that was just like theirs in terms of layout, but flush fully with furniture. A Christmas Tree glowed in a corner next to an empty fireplace, from the mantle of which stockings hung. There was a dining table, set with a cloth, toys strewn across the ground, a recently cleaned kitchen that smelled of detergent, and a radio sitting idle next to the counters.

Anna immediately warmed up, both figuratively and literally, to the neighbor's home. She immediately pointed out the similarities to their own home.

"Everything on this street was made by the same architect," Mr Morrison explained, "The ones they sold recently got renovated with some new things. Mostly new electrics, I believe?"

"Do you have the knob lights or the switch lights?" Ms Morrison asked from the kitchen as a kettle was put on to boil.

"...Switch lights," Indiana eventually answered.

"Oh then you have the new renovations, probably," Mr Morrison nodded, "That's good. For the price they were asking, it would've been a scam if it was anything less than modern. Anyway! Tell me about yourself, neighbor!"

"I'm a new assistant professor at Marshall. Just got my doctorate from Oxford."

"That's a pretty fancy university. I'm Bedford's postmaster..."

Jeremy, taking off his winter coat and boots, walked past Dr Jones and Mr Morrison as they sat down at the table for tea. He quickly gestured towards Anna, who was hovering awkwardly in a corner. Swallowing, she slowly made her way over as the boy continued to gesture for her, keeping an eye on Indiana as she passed by. When it seemed he had no protest to the two of them talking, she proceeded on through the propped-open double doors towards Jeremy.

"Are you a girl?" Jeremy asked, voice low.

Anna nodded.

Jeremy frowned, "I'm sorry. I don't got any girl's toys."

Anna looked around at the toys on display. There were cars, trains, planes... they all seemed pretty standard to her. She shrugged, "I have toys like this as well."

"You do?" Jeremy asked, looking up.

"Yeah... but we sold most of them when we left England," Anna frowned, "I just have some random stuff."

"Whoah. You're from England? They have pegasuses in England?" Jeremy pressed, mouth agape.

"No, I'm from Panama. That's a place in Central America," Anna said, stifling a giggle.

"Never heard of a state called Panama in America. I thought the states in Central America were, like, Nebraska and Kansas. I have a cousin in Kansas," before grabbed the locomotive of a toy train, turning it over in his hands before looking up and squinting at Anna, "How old are you?"

"Seven. I turn eight in January," Anna puffed out her chest.

"I'm seven years old as well," Jeremy nodded to himself, "I turned seven in August."

"That's cool..." Anna muttered, eyes tracing along his toy train, "That's a cool train."

"Wanna play with it?" he asked, holding it out towards her.

Play they did. They had plenty of fun, especially since Anna could fly around and do all sorts of tricks... at least it was fun until she banged into a bookshelf and brought it down onto the floor. She got a bloody nose, but Mrs Morrison was the only one around to treat it. Indiana had gone with Mr Morrison to the furniture store in his truck to pick up the rest of their furniture.

As if coming home that night to a double bed sitting in her room wasn't enough of a Christmas present, on actual Christmas they came over again and shared their cookies. Indiana, having been tied down with the bustle of assembling furniture and writing in his study, felt incredibly guilty about having nothing to show to them in return. Anna, however, coaxed him into giving her a few dollars and allowing her to fly into town to buy something from a store that was open.

She came home with a head of lettuce. That, apparently, was not a very good Christmas gift. Now that she thought about it, she'd feel pretty bummed about unwrapping a present and finding a head of lettuce.

She did eat it raw, though. She'd never really eaten lettuce raw. It was nice, if a bit bland.

Work for Indiana began in the new year. There was onboarding to be done at Marshall College, for which he was determined to make a good impression. That meant a lot of studying up on their curriculum, writing to his peers, and general paperwork. In between work, though, Indiana made special care to see to Anna's holiday homework and to keep in-practice with his marksmanship and bullwhip.

Sanders was in the country, but school was not to begin for another month or so. Anna insisted she was old enough to stay at home alone, but her father insisted she still be watched over by a babysitter. She still had vague memories about her first babysitter (the first one she remembered) from when they were in Chicago. Her name was Mary, she believed?

There was, at least, some trust between the two. Just enough trust that when it turned out Indiana needed to leave early to be at work on time, an hour before the sitter arrived, he trusted her to sit like a good little girl and quietly read in the lounge while he ran off to college.

The house had been furnished. A nice, new dining table and chairs for the dining room, a couch and a pair of armchairs next to the fireplace, a double bed for Anna and a queen sized bed for her father, amongst other bits and pieces. No washing machine, refrigerator, or radio. Anna just assumed that was for when her father was going to make big money teaching school.

Neglected in the midst of all this buying, however, was a replacement set of toys for Anna. She delighted herself in going over to the Morrisons to play with Jeremy, but he wasn't always around. In fact, Indiana had told her to stop going over every single day to bug him into playing with her, as apparently it was "not a polite thing to do". In her boredom, she had set her eyes on something else that looked extremely fun.

The dark but thrilling pang of rebellion in her heart, Anna dared to go out the front door and around to the side of the house. A small side-yard allowed passage into the back, but she wasn't headed to the mound of snow that was the back yard. Instead, she looked up towards one of the windows on the second floor - the window that had been left hanging open.

Spreading her wings, she flew easily up to the second floor window and peered inside the study. It was Dad's special place, a place that he had kept locked ever since he moved furniture into it. Wide eyed and the spicy thrill of defiance in her nostrils, she leaned inside the window and peered around.

A desk sat flush against the wall underneath the window. A simple typewriter sat on top, a page inserted into it. There was a chest of drawers, some left half-open and overflowing with disorganized papers. The carpet was covered in crumbs, dirty dishes were stacked on a table on the side of the room, a clock ticked on a wall, and the entire study smelt heavily of her father's scent.

Stepping carefully from the windowsill over the typewriter, she assessed her environment. Where would he keep it? Stashed amongst the papers in the drawer chest? Probably not, they all seemed to small for it...

She looked down at the desk itself, noticing the drawers built onto either side of it. Pursing her lips, she jumped from the tabletop onto the chair in front of it and reached out for the handle of the right side drawer. Pulling it open, she examined the insides.

Small, red cardboard boxes lined most of the interior of the drawer. All of them were marked with text reading ".45 ACP". A small wooden handle poked out of a strangely-shaped cloth pouch in an empty space next to the bullets, which for some reason filled Anna with a nameless fear in her heart.

Moving nervously away from the drawer, she opened the one on the far left. Immediately, she brightened up as her eyes laid onto the prize. Her father's bullwhip, coiled and sitting in the drawer under a few leaflets of paper.

Of course, she knew this was his second bullwhip. He always kept one on him, under his jacket. But that one was always his older one, and he kept a newer one in reserve at all times. The one sitting in the drawer in front of her was that newer one. Its glowing, leather exterior smelled wondrous. She hefted it into her hooves, feeling its weight and allowing it to uncoil, dangling below her.

She grinned. She had to go and try it out!

Zipping out the window, she made for the backyard, but stayed hovering both to free up her forehooves and to stay out of the snow. Gripping the handle with both hooves, she gave it a few experimental swishes. The whip was heavy and cumbersome under her control, though not too heavy. After getting it to move fast enough that it made swooshing sounds through the air, she grinned and raised her hoof.

The whip's rope collided with her chest, making her grunt and loop it around so that it laid behind her. Then, channeling every single motion her father had made during his story times and every image in her bright, colorful imagination, she raised her hooves, flexed her leg muscles, and struck forward.

WHOOT-CRACK!

The whip did not fly forward and smack through the air. The only thing it did was strike forward and smack directly into the back of her neck. She immediately began to scream as searing pain shot up her spine, causing her wings to seize up and drop her directly into the snow. Hot, sticky liquid ran down the back of her neck and thoroughly stained her shirt.

Bawling and seeing through tears, she took flight in a panic back towards the house. She stuffed her father's whip back in its drawer and proceeded to slam through his study door from the unlocked side across to her bedroom. Bleeding all over her sheets, she proceeded to wail into her pillow for several minutes, until the sitter arrived, found the front door unlocked, and stormed up the stairs to investigate the painful screeching.

Indiana Jones was very, very upset by the time he arrived home.

"How'd you manage that!?" Indiana said, voice a strange flavor of angry as he pushed past the babysitter and peeled back the cloth bandage that had been fixed over the wound.

Anna, the rebellious fire in her quickly doused into a dusty ash of shame, kicked back on the water works as she focused on how she was in pain, miserable, and unable to talk. The crying eventually got her father's pity as he embraced her, kissing her on the top of the head and stroking along her back until she stopped crying.

The babysitter stayed a bit longer than usual, making a cup of hot cocoa to help calm Anna down. In the meantime, the filly in question's heart dropped as she watched her father ascend the stairs and immediately notice the still-open study door. Turning away and pretending to be completely innocent, she tried to summon more tears from her dry eyes as the kettle whistled.

Though, no matter how much she tried, her heart still froze as soon as she felt a large presence behind her and the calm, even words: "Anna. Did you break into my study?"

She nodded slowly.

"Did you touch my whip without my permission?"

...She shook her head.

A pause, before he reaffirmed, "You used my whip without my permission."

This time, she nodded.

"That wasn't a very smart thing to do, Anna."

"I-I-I-" Anna sniffled, choking out her first words since her father had come home, "I- I'm sorry, I j-just wanted to look."

"If you wanted to look at it, you could've asked me."

"W-Well," Anna lowered her head, "I-I also wanted to play with it."

"You don't play with Dad's things. You know not to do that."

"I-I'm sorry..." she hiccuped.

"You're grounded for two weeks."

That hit Anna hard, deflating her on the spot. Though, just as she was beginning to cry again, a hand clasped her shoulder and turned her around. Indiana's face was a bit more empathetic as he knelt down to her eye level.

"Anna. Would you like to learn how to use a whip safely?"

"Hi. Yeah, Ben, it's Jones. Listen, can get another custom order from you?"

"I need one around six feet. A bit more lightweight. I'm not getting it for myself. I don't think she'll have enough strength to use a full sized one."

"Yeah... uh-huh?"

"Yeah. Kangaroo leather. Make it so that you're sure your thirteen year old kid could handle it."

"I know I'm your best customer. That's why you'll charge me less."

"Yeah. Thanks. Bye-bye."

16: Thunderclaps and Whip Cracks, 1928

The days became warmer and the snow melted. Grass pushed up through the ground and the trees were filled with leaves. Their gray boughs became strong and brown, insects began to buzz, and the birds returned to the trees. The school semester started, as evidenced by Jeremy Morrison returning to school and Mr Sanders coming by train every day to continue Anna's studies. Indiana's schedule became more consistent, going to Marshall College during class times and staying for his office hours, before returning home around 6PM on most days.

One day, in the midst of Anna's lessons, a knock came at their front door. Mr Sanders left Anna to her Greek reading practice to answer the door, only for her to become immediately distracted once her ears perked up and heard a familiar voice. She looked to her right from her seat at the dining table, seeing her tutor standing with the front door open.

"Is Anna home?" Jeremy asked.

Sanders sniffed, "Yes, but she is in the middle of her lesson."

"What lesson?"

"Her Greek lessons," the tutor said evenly.

"What's that?"

"Greek is a language that the cultured and educated must learn to show their breeding. Run along now, child. She shall be done in two more hours," Sanders dismissed, and the shaft of light coming from the door began to narrow as the door swung closed.

"Wait, is that school? But it's Saturday!" Jeremy shouted.

"Anna has extra activities on Saturday. You will see her at three o' clock in the afternoon. Good day," Sanders firmly said, before the front door clicked closed.

Anna frowned, ears lowering as she looked back down to her books. The chair opposite her creaked as Sanders sat back down, his sunken eyes examining her closely as she stared down at the Greek symbols on her page, not really reading any of it.

"Speak plainly, Anna. You are upset that you cannot play with your friends on Saturdays?" Sanders eventually said.

Anna swallowed, before nodding, "Everyone else gets Saturday off. I just get more work..."

"Your study of the Greek language is foundational for your future, Miss Jones," Sanders said, steepling his hands in front of him, "When you are grown up, if you choose to take a career of academics like your father, people will look down on you if you do not know your hellenistic languages."

A pit formed in her stomach as she propped her head up with her forehooves, clamped down on her cheeks. Her eyes scanned the pages, but once again weren't actually perceiving anything.

"Yet, there is a thin line between discipline and the total eclipsing of a child's spirit," Sanders seemed to finally acquiesce, suddenly slamming a red bookmark onto the current page of Anna's textbook.

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised and a tiny hint of hope in the back of her mind.

Sanders gave her a long, hard look in return, hand still on the edge of the bookmark, "In the future, you shall discuss with your friends as to when they wish to play with you on Saturdays. You will then inform me in advance and we shall take no longer than three hours' break for you to play. Do I make myself clear?"

Anna nodded emphatically, her wings already beginning to flex as she inched her chair away from the table.

"You are dismissed early," Sanders simply said, snapping the book shut in front of her.

"YAY!" came her cry as she took flight, then zipped out the door and over the hedge, straight towards the neighbor's house. As she flew away, the smallest smile came over Philip Sander's face.

Anna followed Jeremy through his house and towards the back door. She wondered, for a second, why they didn't just take the side yard, but then he stopped to open a cabinet next to the door and pulled out a bat and a small, white ball.

"You like baseball? Usually girls don't like playing sports, but you kinda look like a tomboy," Jeremy said, shouldering the bat, "No offense, but you wear pants which isn't something girls usually do."

"Uh, none taken?" Anna tilted her head. Was he implying girls wore nothing below their undies? She knew that wasn't true, "What's baseball?"

"You haven't heard what baseball is!?" Jeremy said incredulously, before he shook his head in an exaggerated fashion and opened the back door, "C'mon, most of my friends are already here and I wanna introduce you to 'em."

Before Anna knew it, she was outside in the green, recently cut grass outside the back of the Morrison home. Over the fence, she could see her own, barren yard just adjacent and the oak tree that towered over it. A swing set had been built in one corner of the Morrison yard, and around it a bunch of boys sat.

"Whoah. What kind of dog is that?" one of them, a slightly rotund boy with short, brown hair, said while pointing at her.

Anna felt like shrinking in through the sleeves of her shirt when Jeremy frowned, "Hey! She ain't no dog! Her name's Anna. She's my friend!"

"Sorry," the kid quickly apologized, "Hi Anna. I'm Bob. I'm from Sunflower Lane."

"Hi..." Anna muttered, turning her eyes to the next kid, who was currently idly kicking back and forth on the swing.

"I'm Tommy. I live two blocks away, by the main street," the child, who was lanky with curls of black hair, said.

"Hi..." Anna said again, shifting uncomfortably between her hooves.

Jeremy lowered his bat, tapping Anna in the side with the blunt end of it, "Anna's never heard of baseball before. We gotta teach her the rules before we play."

The children stood, brushing themselves off. Tommy raised an eyebrow as he took a leather mitt and put it on his right hand, "Who hasn't heard of baseball?"

Anna, heart thundering and glancing nervously around, was lectured to about the rules of the sport. There was a ball, a batter, a pitcher, and outfielders. The batter hit the ball as hard as they could and tried to run around a diamond-shaped field before someone could hit him back with the ball. Anna was a bit clueless on how this sport was meant to work with only four people, but she was told that she'd be an outfielder first since she didn't know a lot about the game.

"This kind of sounds like cricket..." Anna muttered softly, walking back a few paces outside of the diamond the other kids had established using stones from the garden.

"What's that?" Bob asked, looking at her from across the diamond. He was the other outfielder.

"It's something they played in England," Anna said.

"Whoah, you've been to England?"

"My grandpa's from there," Tommy said, standing in the center of the diamond with the mitt and the ball tucked inside of it.

"What's it like?" Bob pressed.

"A lot more rainy," Anna said, watching as Jeremy silently performed a few practice swings with his bat.

"More rainy? Gee whiz, it already rains so much here! We've been lucky it's been so dry this spring so far."

Indiana walked up the stairs leading to the front door of the Morrison residence, raising a fist to knock politely on the front door. After a moment of placing his hands in his pockets and waiting, the door handle twisted and swung open, revealing Mr Morrison standing with a wooden pipe sticking from between his lips.

"Dr Jones!" Morrison greeted enthusiastically, "Come to collect your daughter?"

"Yeah. She's supposed to be doing her Greek lessons today, so color me surprised when her tutor told me she'd been dismissed to go over to your place," Indiana muttered, stepping through the door as the other man gestured him inside.

"Well, she's definitely having fun," Mr Morrison chuckled softly, "They've been at it for hours now."

Stepping into the kitchen, giving a casual greeting towards Mrs Morrison, who was working on dinner, Indiana spied his daughter through the window of the back door. It seemed it was her turn to bat, and a ball was launched towards her by a the Morrison boy. With a signature 'THWOCK', the ball was knocked into the ground, where it bounced and hit the fence. Dropping the bat, Anna began to sprint, only to get smacked in the back of the head by a throw from the outfielders, who were other kids that Indiana didn't recognize. Laughter was audible through the walls as the children reset their game.

Indiana calmly opened the back door and stepped outside onto the lawn that was, to his slight embarrassment, much better kept than his own. His original intentions were to immediately call Anna back for dinner, now that it was around five. However, he couldn't help but feel a little spark of joy at seeing her happy.

Of course, as soon as the children caught sight of the adult in their midst, the laughter stopped. Anna waved, "Hi Dad."

"Having fun?" Indiana asked, folding his arms.

Anna nodded vigorously.

"In about an hour, it's dinner time, okay?" Indiana said.

That statement deflated Anna slightly. Apparently, two hours of play was just not enough for her. Still, she nodded again, this time with less energy.

Wordlessly, Indiana turned around and re-entered the house, closing the back door behind him. He began to stroll back through the Morrison residence towards their front door, in order to return to his own house to prepare a simple dinner. Though, as he passed the kitchen, Mr Morrison intercepted him before he could reach the front door.

"Me and my wife would like to invite you to stay for dinner," Mr Morrison said, "If you aren't too busy?"

Mrs Morrison turned her head away from the stove, "I know it's hard work with the semester starting and all, but we've hardly gotten to see you since Christmas time!"

Indiana took one look back towards the kitchen to see the potatoes, casserole, and pie that was being made. As soon as he took that moment to assess the half-prepared dinner and drink in its smell, he made his decision and smiled, "If it wouldn't be too much of an imposition."

"Not at all," Mr Morrison shook his head, "Rebecca always makes too much food, and we're running out of space in the icebox for leftovers!" he held out a hand, gesturing for Indiana to follow him into the lounge.

Moments later, Indiana sat on an armchair across from Mr Morrison. The long day of sitting in a stiff desk chair during his office hours bled out as he reclined on the soft cushioning of the armchair. Through a nearby window, he could see the children playing in the backyard. His eyes followed Anna as she fluttered around the three other children.

"You said your Anna was learning Greek?" Mr Morrison asked, refilling his pipe, "Planning on making her a doctor?"

"The tutor has either Latin or Greek as part of his lesson plan. I already pay him enough just for the standard schooling, so I may as well let her learn an academic language at the same time," Indiana shrugged.

"Must be even more expensive than private school," Morrison shook his head, "I suppose your reasoning is to keep her away from bullies?"

"Kids tear apart other children if they have a strange looking nose," Indiana grimaced, "Imagine what they'd do to her."

"I imagine it would be quite lonely, though?" Morrison puffed a bit on his pipe, "Not being able to socialize with other children during school hours... not that this is a criticism, mind you! I think you've definitely made the right decision."

Indiana had his hackles raised, but relaxed a bit at Morrison's clarification. In the end, he gave a slight nod of agreement, "She's definitely gotten shy. I'm glad her and Jeremy have hit it off."

"Well, every child has wanted a pony for Christmas at some point," Morrison chortled, lips curling up around his pipe, "She's very close to being one. Hard for a child not to like her."

"Hard for a lot of people not to like her," Indiana frowned, "The reason she ended up in the papers was because someone tried to kidnap her. I realized in that moment the most I could do was have him gotten for theft, like he'd stolen a goat from my farm or something."

"That court case must've been so stressful," Morrison gave a sympathetic frown, "Bigger than just you as well. You made the government admit that being human was more than just looks. Means someday maybe they'll have to admit Blacks and Jews are humans too."

"I hope so," Indiana snorted, "It'd be my biggest contribution back to this world."

Only a quarter-hour after Indiana had shown his face in the yard had the children grown tired of baseball. Anna, for her part, was still filled with energy as they packed away the sporting equipment and tossed the rocks back into the garden. Never before had she felt so invigorated, had so much fun. Her previous shyness had been completely shattered, and she took to her new friends like a man in a desert to an oasis.

While Anna had been told not to fly during the game, as it was cheating to be able to fly laps around the diamond while the others couldn't even reach her, she'd been of great utility in recovering lost balls. Usually, the boys had to be careful not to actually knock the ball over the fences, as it would be forever lost in another yard. Now, though, they could swing for the fences and have Anna just fly over and snatch the ball back.

"You wanna see something really cool?" she asked, hovering a few feet off the ground while the boys sat down and rested.

They all nodded vigorously.

With a confident grin, Anna shot up towards the clouds above. Beating her wings, she ascended at maximum speed, an infinite well of energy and a desire to impress her new friends bankrolling her flight. Eventually, the air grew thin, signed by her breathing automatically changing with the altitude. From below, the boys gaped as a greyscale rainbow followed her towards the sky.

Moments later, she arrived at the cloud layer. Looking around, Anna quickly identified an appropriate cloud. Grabbing it from above, she pushed it back down towards the ground, steering it back towards the back yard of the Morrison residence. When she was a few meters above the ground, she allowed the cloud to coast towards the grass below while lying on top of it in a casual position.

"Holy crap!" Tommy shouted as the cloud lowered right down into the yard.

"Hey! That's a bad word!" Bob said, pushing Tommy with a thrust to the shoulder.

Jeremy, frozen in wonder, reached out towards the cloud and passed his hand through it several times.

"What do you think?" Anna asked, pulling off a thin, white strip of the cloud and beginning to chew on it like it was a chunk of cotton candy.

"Holy cow!" Tommy exclaimed, getting shoved again by Bob.

"That's so cool!" Jeremy said, continuing to wave his hands through the cloud, "I always wanted to touch a cloud!"

"I can do something, even cooler," Anna grinned toothily.

Indiana frowned as a cloud eclipsed his view of the back yard. He supposed it was only inevitable that Anna showed off her... abilities. Mr Morrison, for his part, looked over his shoulder and hummed, "What a strange fog..."

At that moment, Mrs Morrison walked in, wiping a pair of wet hands off on her apron, "Dinner's ready whenever the kids are."

Indiana checked his watch, "I gave her an hour about forty minutes ago. Will it still be hot by then?"

"Sure," Mrs Morrison smiled, sitting down on the couch, "How is the semester going, Dr Jones?"

He grimaced. It was long, tiresome work. Worst of all was the fact that the work was boring. As an assistant teacher at Oxford, he thought it would just get less boring when he started to have more authority over the course subjects. This, however, had not turned out to be true now that he had dove into the standard, professional work of a college professor.

"...It's alright," he eventually said, "It pays the bills."

Mr Morrison cocked his head, "Do they pay you well?"

"They pay me the industry standard rate," Indiana responded, "It's just... it's boring sometimes."

"I can relate," Mr Morrison nodded, "Have to do whatever will provide, right?"

"Is there a Mrs Jones?" Mrs Morrison asked, tilting her head.

Indiana Jones shook his head, "It's a solo show, for now. Plenty of women, nobody who was right for me I'm afraid."

"Must be quite hard," said Mrs Morrison, clasping her hands together, "On you and her. Are there any womanly influences in her life?"

"Not aside from her babysitters," a pause, "Probably why she's such a tomboy," Indiana chuckled, "But for now, she's stuck with me."

Suddenly, rain began to fall on the side of the house. Every adult in the room went silent, looking towards the yard in confusion. Rain dripped down the windows of the back side of the house, yet on the front, there was sun and not a dark cloud in sight.

"That's Anna's doing," Indiana eventually explained, "You see, somehow she can-"

Indiana was suddenly blinded with a brilliant, white light as an explosion rocked the house.

Anna finished jumping on the cloud, compressing the several she had gathered into one, dark raincloud. Something rushed down through her into the cloud, and then rain began to fall from its fluffy, vaporous reaches. Screams of surprise and laughter came from below as the boys were suddenly pelted with an ice-cold rainshower, retreating to the far reaches of the yard away from the deluge.

With a frown, she noticed that something was... different feeling about this cloud than the one she had used at sea, and the others she had experimented with since. She felt her fur standing up and her mane and tail rising, almost like she had been rubbing herself over the carpet. She paused for only a moment, before bouncing on the cloud a few more times. Each time she hit the cloud and she felt that strange... thing move around through her, the static in the air grew, until suddenly...

KA-BOOM!

Anna's ears rang as she froze in fear, standing on top of the cloud. Her eyes were filled with white-hot afterimages of the yard, blending into muted and blurred colors as she stumbled about. Her ears rang, though the sound quickly diminished as normal hearing returned. She could hear her father calling out to her as she shook her head, trying to get the dots out of her eyes.

After a few moments, her senses returned to her. Indiana looked up at her with a horrified look on his face, the Morrisons stood behind him, while the three other children crowded around the two adults. Below the cloud, which was quickly dispersing as the wind blew long smokey tufts off of its side, a large black scorch mark had been drilled into the ground.

"Dad..." Anna said, the ringing finally leaving as she looked down at the big, black spot that had been burned into the grass right in the middle of the backyard, "I think I made lightning."

Mr Sanders peered over the top of his notebook, making eye contact with Anna, who was busy eating her afternoon snack. She had just finished midterm exam for Greek, and was waiting expectantly for the results to come through. She tried her best to analyze her tutor's face, though the ever-stoic man simply placed down his notebook and clasped his hands in front of him, not betraying a hint until he spoke.

"Dare I say it, Miss Jones, but perhaps you may be on your way to speaking the language fluently," Sanders closed the book, "A-. You had some issues with pronunciation, but otherwise a flawless work. Keep this up, and you may become trilingual."

Anna pumped a hoof, before pausing and tilting her head, "What's trilingual mean? Is that like bilingual?"

"It means you are fluent in three languages," Sanders muttered, giving a glance towards the clock on the wall as he began to pack his books.

"But I only know German and Greek," Anna frowned, looking down at her half-eaten scone.

"English, German, and Greek are your languages, Miss Jones," Sanders intoned, perking up very slightly as the sound of steps on the cobblestones outside came through the front door, "Your father is only fifteen minutes late this time, it would seem."

The door opened, the familiar scent and frame of Indiana Jones filling the doorway. Under one arm, a beige wrapped paper package was held. He kicked off his dress shoes and placed his hat on a rack before catching the eye of Sanders, "How'd the exams go?"

"Very well," Sanders muttered, closing the clasps on his book bag, "Your daughter has, once again, proven herself to be intelligent in matters lingual," he lowered his voice in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his next words from Anna's constantly panning ears, "Her mathematics, however..."

Indiana waved him off, "We're all allowed to have our weaknesses," then, raising his voice and looking up the staircase, he shouted, "ANNA!?"

"Hi," Anna said, from just a few feet away as she sat at the dining table.

Jumping slightly, Indiana turned and blinked, "Oh. Hi. Didn't see you there."

"Have a good afternoon, Dr Jones," Sanders muttered, taking his hat from the rack and journeying out the door past Indiana.

"You too," Indiana said, kicking the door closed behind him with a leg, before walking over to Anna and plopping the package down on the table in front of her, "Hey. Remember when you hit yourself with my whip?"

Anna reached to the back of her head and rubbed the long, sensitive scar that had grown over the spot. Fur had refused to grow back properly along the space, leaving a permanent U-shaped scar across her neck and down to her shoulders. All in all, it was definitely hard to forget, "...yeah."

"Still want to learn how to use one safely?" Indiana asked, folding his arms.

"Mhm..." Anna nodded, looking towards the parcel, "What's this?"

"Belated Christmas gift, since we were too busy on actual Christmas to get you anything," Indiana said, holding out a hand towards it, "Open it."

"Thanks, Dad," Anna said in a practiced, almost rote manner as she reached out and began to tear apart the paper packaging, covered in international stamps and covering a cardboard box. She reached to tear open the box, but was stopped as Indiana grabbed a knife and cut open the tape keeping it closed.

Looking inside curiously, her eyes widened as she laid eyes on the contents. The scent of preserving chemicals and freshly tanned leather drifted out from the box, coming from a tightly coiled bullwhip. It was almost the exact same color and texture as her father's, though as she eagerly reached in and pulled it out, she found it was significantly downsized. Still very large, though not completely, unreasonably unwieldy.

"Six foot long. Kangaroo hide, extra long fall," Indiana said, a hint of nervousness to his voice, "Do you... like it?"

Anna had to admit, she'd only ever been curious about her father's whip. She thought it was cool how he used it in all of his stories, and the times she'd seen him practice with it in real life. She never really imagined giving it more than just a practice try in real life. Still, to express all of that to her father was not something she wanted to do, so she simply nodded.

"Well, if you'd like to, we can do some practice with it this afternoon, unless you have something planned with your friends?" Indiana asked, jerking a thumb towards the back door.

"Sure!" Anna, in fact, did not have anything planned that afternoon. It seemed that her father had forgotten the Morrisons were out of town until the following week.

Moments later, they were in the back yard, amongst the grass that had been neglected and allowed to overgrow for a few weeks. Still, the grass was not high enough to tickle more than Anna's chest, allowing her to watch her father as he coiled his full-sized bullwhip.

"Okay. Since whips aren't really meant for people who walk on all fours, you should probably learn most of this stuff while flying in the air," Indiana began, standing a safe distance away from Anna with his own whip drawn.

Anna obliged, taking off slightly, holding her coiled whip to her chest. She wore an old bike helmet on her head, to protect her ears and head if she whipped herself again.

"Alright," Indiana gripped his own and let it unfurl onto the ground, "Okay. First thing you should know is that the key to using a whip is that it's really not about strength. It's about precision, and doing the right moves to make the cord go exactly like you want it. If you force your whip around, you'll just make the cord go crazy and hurt yourself or somebody else," adjusting his grip on the handle in a finely-practiced motion, Indiana started with his hand behind him, before smoothly moving the handle into the air and then flicking back downwards. The cord responded in suit, flying fully into the air before cracking downwards with a signature 'WOOT-CRACK'.

"That's called the Cattleman's Crack," Indiana explained, "You gotta get the cord all the way into the air before just flicking downwards with your... uh, fetlock. You put more force into pulling upwards than you do throwing downwards, or else the cord will go lazy and try and nick your ears. Try and get the up in the air part right and the rest is easy."

Anna let her whip unfurl, and then spared a glance towards her father. He responded by placing his hands on his hips and giving an encouraging nod. Eventually she made a strained inhale and pulled the whip up, before throwing the handle down. The cord, in return, after coiling all the way behind her head, came down hard and smacked the top of her helmet before bouncing back down towards the ground.

"You got the up in the air part. You just flicked down too late and too hard, you got this," Indiana encouraged, taking his own whip to show off the move one more time.

Anna nodded slowly, before hovering back slightly to reset her position after being knocked forward by her mistake, prepping her whip to try again. Raising the handle up, she once again knocked herself in the head with the whip cord. But, before Indiana could correct her again, she gritted her teeth and tried again. This time, the cord narrowly missed her helmet and made a faint "Swish!", but lacked the vital crack at the end.

Indiana smiled, folding his arms, "Almost there."

Anna smiled back, before trying one more time. The cord flew high into the air, before coming down with a loud snap. The sound of a supersonic "CRACK!" echoed through the yard and off the neighbor's houses.

Eyes following the end of Anna's whip, Indiana blinked as he swore he saw a wind rustle through the bushes lining the edges of his yard. Whips didn't make that much breeze, and he assumed it must just be a wind that he couldn't feel from where he was standing.

"Good job!" Indiana said, pride dripping from his lips, "The secret to really mastering whip cracking is figuring out that right amount of strength to get the cord fully extended. Now, let's work on mastering it today, and maybe I'll start you on the overhead stuff if you're quick enough?"

"Yeah!" Anna cheered, adjusting her grip on the whip once more.

Every day, after school, father and daughter would take to the back yard. Indiana would bequeath his knowledge of standard circus tricks first, as that was how he, himself was inspired to learn. He could definitely tell that Anna had not been as enthusiastic as he'd expected at first (in all fairness, whipsport was a fairly specialized hobby), but as it became a common thing for them to spend some time in the outdoors spending time together and shooting the breeze between practice, she warmed up quickly.

It made sense, Indiana supposed. Usually, the most he'd do for her is come home, cook a simple dinner - something with a taste he couldn't spoil with his poor skills - and then chat over the dinner table. It was something him and his father would do, not that he particularly wanted to emulate him, but instead it was the only thing he really knew how to do in regards to parenting.

Now, though, he thought back to the times when him and his father had done things together like this... or rather, the lack of times this had happened. His father had personally taught him Greek, but the study had been rote and unchallenging to Indiana. Otherwise, there would just be nothing. Just dinner, studying, and showing up when Indiana got in trouble at school.

Anna Jones... Anna Mary Jones, had been the person to take part in his life. Up until he was 12 years old, that is.

As Summer approached, though, the lessons would not continue. Indiana had been chasing a lead for a long time, and now he was raring to get out of the library. After 7 years of study, teaching, and research work, he'd begun to yearn for the old days... and look ahead to the possible profits of a little bit of independent digging. His next target was back in Egypt, and as soon as the mid-semester break started and he could have respite from teaching, he was off like a rocket, leaving Anna in Marcus's charge.

She'd still be there when he got back. He had to do what he had to do and provide, after all.

Author's Note

Apologies for the long wait while re-editing this chapter. I could never land on a version of this chapter that I was satisfied with, but I eventually got there. I have a lot of sort of 'slices of life' to go through in the following chapters to develop the characters.

In other news: Indiana Jones and the Great Circle has been added to the list of things that will be covered... and its presence has done an estimated 20,000 words worth of damage to pre-existing material that was meant to cover its time period.

I wouldn't have made the decision to put it in if I didn't think it was worth it though.

Also, by the time you read this, it will be my birthday :)

17: Love Language, 1928

"...And then behind the false wall, we found the sarcophagus. It was a lot smaller than I anticipated. But, I guess it makes sense, cause it was made for a cat..." Indiana Jones recounted, pacing back and forth in front of Marcus Brody's desk.

It was the end of summer at Marshall. Outside the window of the office, looking out over the college quad, students strolled towards the first classes of the second semester as a distant clocktower's bell tolled out the hour. Marcus watched his old friend curiously, tapping a finger against the top of his desk as he recounted his story.

Occasionally, his eyes flicked away from Indiana towards the golden piece sitting next to his typewriter and tube of white-out. The golden surface of it glistened with the light from the window, casting an almost ethereal glow around the room.

"...That was when the Egyptian student from earlier came in and smashed the Kraut on the back of the head with a shovel. The other guy turned to shoot at him, but that's when I leapt on him... and... well, long story short," Indiana said, cutting what had so far been a very long story into an even shorter story. He placed a hand on top of the gilded coffin, looking up to Marcus, "So, how much do you think the National Museum would pay for a piece like this?"

Marcus, sitting in somewhat stunned silence, glanced a few times between Indy's hazel eyes and the eyes sculpted onto the top of the tiny sarcophagus, "...Sorry, the Egyptian Student?"

"Sallah?" Indiana blinked, "You know? The guy who was studying civil engineering? Back at the college?"

Marcus opened a drawer, taking out a magnifying glass and muttering, "How could I forget..."

With that, he raised the glass to his eye. Carefully, he examined every single inch of the relic, admiring the tiny nicks and scratches, the deformations of time, and the sparkle of the jewels set into the eyes. While the pure monetary value was something to be desired for sure, the historical value was what more prominently caught Brody's eye. Eventually, he broke of and nodded, looking back up to an impatient-looking Indiana.

"Well, it certainly is a good piece," Marcus admitted, "But you know a museum won't pay a ransom for it. They might be able to... reward you for your work, but if you're expecting private collector prices..."

Indiana shook his head, "No. That's more something Belloq would do."

"I thought Belloq was selling to a museum?" Marcus asked, recalling the scant details he remembered from Indiana's long rant about his recent adventure in Egypt.

"He's selling to the German fascists, Marcus, I think there's a difference," Indiana spat, "Were you even listening?"

Marcus grimaced, "Well I-"

"Whatever, whatever," the adventurer sighed, "How much, though?"

"Perhaps seven-thousand?" Marcus estimated. In the end, he was part of the Acquisitions Committee working for the National Museum who would advise the treasury in such matters. The recovery of something like this, if sold to a private source, would likely rack up a prize of several ten-thousand for something so valuable.

"Sure. Take six thousand out of that to pay back the loan you gave me for my first house in Chicago," Indiana said, "I'll take the rest and put it down on the house's mortgage."

The next words out of Marcus's mouth died at that mention. He frowned, saying, "Pay off your mortgage first and then start on your student loans. I can wait all the time I want, the bank won't."

"The bank isn't my friend. You are," Indiana said, breaking eye contact as he began to pace towards the back of the room, hands still on his hips, "Besides. I've got something lined up in 1929 for Easter Island."

Marcus Brody pursed his lips, "...Something else lined up, hmm? Is this going to take place in the winter?"

"Yeah, of course. Can't do it while my classes are on," Indiana dismissed casually, reaching up to scratch at his stubble.

"I would've thought, perhaps, you might've moved past this when you got Anna," Marcus said, pausing before adding, "...And when she nearly got kidnapped while you were doing this very same thing."

Indiana looked over his shoulder, giving a queer look towards the curator, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Indiana, you were young back when you first visited Panama. You were... running away from a lot of problems," Marcus leaned back into his seat with a sigh, placing his arms on the rests as he flexed his hands and said, "If something were to... happen to you out there."

"Something could happen to me at home. There's no such thing as real safety," Indiana shot back, almost too quickly.

"There is such a thing as putting yourself in harms way, when you could really leave somebody behind," Marcus frowned, "Indiana, you have a perfectly good position at Marshall. The faculty here likes you. Anna is growing up in a near perfect environment. Do you realize how much you could uproot, not even if you died, but if you just got terribly injured?"

As Marcus spoke, Indiana grew increasingly agitated, smoothing a hand across the side of his head until he finally lowered it and stomped his foot in frustration, "Goddamnit Marcus, I just can't sit here chained to a desk for the rest of my life! I mean, look at this piece," said Indiana, jabbing out a hand towards the sarcophagus, "What would've happened if Belloq and his krauts got to it first?"

"Indiana, please..." Marcus began.

"No, please Marcus, I'm-" Indiana closed his eyes and clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. Eventually, he opened his eyes and placed his hands to either side of the mummy on his desk, leaning forward and saying, "When I was in Egypt with Ravenwood, I hated every second of it. This makes me feel alive, Marcus. I shouldn't need to give this up. I'm good at it, too!"

"You're good at teaching," Marcus tilted his head, shaking his head, "Your students are enamoured whenever you walk into a room-"

"Meanwhile I'm dreading every second of it," Indiana Jones pushed away from the desk, "I don't hate archaeology, Marcus. If I did, I wouldn't be giving this to a museum-"

"This isn't about you hating archaeology, Indiana-"

"Then goddamnit what is this about!?"

Marcus raised both of his hands in a placating gesture, "Indy, I've already said... this is about Anna."

Something told Marcus Indiana already knew that. He gave a slightly pained expression, reaching behind himself to pull up a chair and fall into it with a sigh.

"You love her dearly, Indiana. There's no question about that, but at this point... she's going to see me for more of the year than she'll see you," Marcus frowned, "It's not entirely your fault. You have to be the man of the family with no mother to hold you up. It's a lot of pressure. But..."

"You saying I could be doing better?" Indiana spat, looking up from his position on the chair.

Once again, the words in Marcus's mouth died as he averted his eyes, "...I'm saying," Marcus began, rethinking his approach, "That perhaps if you are attempting to juggle Anna, Marshall College, and trying to go on adventures again... one of those things is going to need to suffer."

"You don't know that..." Indiana murmured.

"Think about the Ravenwoods, Jones," Marcus pleaded, "Marion has to follow her father all across the world on his search for the Ark. Now they're in Asia, rucking about the bush and mountains, thousands of miles from home. Abner doesn't give her the time she needs, and you know she suffers for it."

There was silence in the room. The sun shifted, causing the glow from the sarcophagus to slowly fade.

"I can't give up on this stuff, Marcus," Indiana muttered, "It's just who I am. I don't... I don't want to give up on Anna either. I don't want her to grow up like Marion, or..."

After a pause lingered in the air, Marcus suggested, "Or you?"

Indiana gave a reluctant nod, "Or me. It was a real lonely life."

"My father once told me it is a parent's dream to have their child grow up in a less painful world than they did," Marcus gave a bitter smile, "We can't all be perfect, but I know your heart is in the right place, Indiana Jones."

"What do you want me to do?" Indiana muttered, looking down at his hands at away from Marcus, "What would you do if you were in my situation?"

That made Marcus smile a bit. An Indiana Jones ten years ago wouldn't have stopped to ask for advice before diving into the next big thing. Progress, however slow, was always a sign of hope. Licking his lips, Marcus eventually, quietly, suggested, "What was the biggest thing your father did to make you hate him?"

"Ignore me almost every single time I talked about something I wasn't interested in," Indiana muttered.

"He never understood your specific way of appreciating history," Marcus nodded in agreement, "Indiana... I think your father loved you very much, but he just never showed it-"

Indiana scoffed, making no attempt at hiding the roll of his eyes.

Holding up a hand to try and stay Indiana into allowing him to continue, Marcus added, "-While he buried himself in his studies, you were developing your own interests and your own ways to see the world. A good parent will look away from his own interests and engage in what his children are interested in, no matter how little they understand or care about the subject matter."

Marcus steepled his hands, leaning closer, "Imagine if, for once, your father looked away from the Grail and looked at one of your interests. Imagine if he came downstairs one day and said 'Son, what would you like to do today?'."

"He wouldn't do that," Indy dismissed.

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Marcus raised his eyebrows, "You need to show Anna that you love her. That takes more than tasty treats, a house, or presents at Christmas. You got all that when you were a child, but it wasn't enough then, was it? You could see it when you started that bullwhip training, no doubt. When you turned away from what you were doing and showed an interest in what she was interested in - granted it happened to be that you were interested in the same things - she knew you really loved her.

"I think this is truly pivotal, Indy. This is the time when she will start truly discovering herself. Get to know every aspect of her and make sure that, no matter what, she knows you love her. That's something your father never did," Marcus's eyes went floorward, "...That was his biggest mistake. He never knew you, and so he lost you."

Silence reigned in the room. Indiana lifted his head until it rested on the back of the chair he was slumped into. He bit his lower lip, deep in thought. Eventually, he took a breath to say, "Mr Sanders says she likes books a lot."

"What kinds of books?"

"I don't know."

Marcus smiled, "Why don't you find out?"

This was incredibly asinine.

Indiana took off his reading glasses, rubbing his eyes as Anna's voice filled his ears. She read from her latest book in a semi-nervous, semi-dispassionate tone as she glanced nervously up to her father, who was still wearing his fine professoral suit.

Nothing in her book made any sense. I mean, why would these advanced wizards from another world be summoning a magical teleporting treehouse to the back yard of these random children? If they needed help finding ancient magical relics from across history so badly, why wouldn't they go straight to the house of a scientist or the quad of a university to consult some experts?

The depiction of the romans were horrendous as well. They had Repubic and Imperial-era equipment, technologies, and cultures all mixed together in some sort of unholy matrimony. The fact that he had to research much of this for his dissertation and now his classes made him sick to his stomach as he read a few paragraphs ahead of his daughter, eyes catching mentions of trebuchets and elephant warriors.

"Why'd they do that?" Indiana asked, pointing to a certain line in the book, "Why would these ancient legionnaires just, out of nowhere, try and shoot these two kids?"

"...I dunno?" Anna shrugged, leaning into a forehoof and pursing her lips, "Maybe they were just really angry?"

"It just makes no sense," Indiana shook his head, taking off his glasses completely to lean back in his chair.

"Well I like it," Anna muttered, closing the book.

Immediately regretting his previous words, Indiana quickly assured, "I love you!"

Anna lowered her head, giving him a long, awkward stare, "...Are you okay Dad?"

"I'm fine," Indiana reassured, waving his hands and sitting back up in his chair, "Let's move onto the next page. Where were you?"

"You look like you're about to puke, Dad," Anna pointed out, poking his stomach with a sharp jab.

Bile rose in Indy's throat, expulsed by the jab. A pained look on his face, he raised a clenched fist to his mouth and swallowed. Shaking his head with a grunt, he lied, "No."

"Don't you have work to do or something?" Anna muttered, looking away from him with a frown.

"No. I want to spend the entire day with you, and I mean it!" Indiana insisted, waggling a finger at her, "What else do you like doing?"

"I like playing baseball with my friends in the afternoon," Anna said, looking longingly out towards the window.

The neighborhood kids quickly lost all enthusiasm they had for the game as soon as an adult joined in. Even when he resigned to sit and watch, they seemed to just have less fun when there was a responsible grownup watching their every move. Soon, after some awkward goodbyes, Indiana and Anna walked back up the stairs to their own front door.

"Sorry," Indiana felt like saying. The demeaning nature of apologizing to his own daughter after doing something as embarrassing as joining in on a children's game was not lost on him.

"Can I go to my room now?" Anna asked, a giant pout on her face as she looked up at him.

Indiana had no desire left in him to argue that she needed to eat dinner. He simply slumped onto a couch as she made her way upstairs, closing her door and not coming back out for the rest of the night. The fact that she knew how to shower and put herself to bed - something he had not taught her - made him even more sullen.

A pint would do him well, that night, but he didn't have it in himself to walk out to a speakeasy. Even though he could have gone back to accomplish some work in his study, all he could bring himself to do was pace around aimlessly in his living room.

After eventually falling asleep, being woken up early by one of his recurring nightmares, he eventually made his way downstairs again. Taking a cookbook that had been given to him by his neighbors, a gift that was no doubt inspired by the time they came over for dinner and were treated to an absolutely monstrous meal, he looked up the recipe for pancakes. Lighting the stove and taking out the relevant ingredients from his pantry and icebox, he mixed and poured the batter out onto a heated pan.

By the time the sun rose, he had thrown away several failed attempts at a good breakfast. After going through all the ingredients he had on hand, he was eventually forced to settle on the final result as being 'good enough'. His attempts at cutting out some sort of image out of one of the pancakes made him blush with so much embarrassment that he threw it away as well, instead leaving him to carve cringey smiley faces into the top of his stack of misshapen pancakes and call it a day.

Anna came down the stairs, still in the previous day's clothes, while they were still warm.

"I made pancakes," Indiana said, stating the obvious as she walked up to the kitchen counter and tilted her head.

In response, quite puzzlingly, she wilted, ears flopping down and wings sagging a bit.

In complete silence, Indiana plated up the pancakes the best he could and took it to the table. It was then that he realized that he had made pancakes without any syrup in stock. So, they simply sat, with their sad plain meal, with a cup of milk each. The way Anna stared down at her smiley-face pancake made Indiana place his shoulders on the table, cup his hands over his eyes, and sigh.

There was the sound of silverware scraping against ceramic, followed by a silence that was assumedly her taking a bite. Suddenly, her breath quavered, some words dying on her lips as she began to sob.

Indiana's inside voice sarcastically congratulated him. He'd managed to make her cry, now. Maybe it would've just been better to run away back to university to start the workday early over there. She was going to grow up to hate him every single bit as much as he hated his father, and then she was going to go and run off to join some revolution somewhere, then sign up for another Great War...

"I'm sorry Dad!" Anna suddenly wailed.

Indiana lifted his eyes from his hands, a look of utter confusion on his face. Across from him, Anna wept bitter tears, a chunk missing from her pancake.

"...Huh?" he eventually said.

"I've been a really bad girl. I-I- sniff I'm really bad at maths, I don't eat my breakfast, my books are stupid, and you pay all that money for Mr Sanders but I keep being naughty and not flossing..." she sniffed, "I don't want you to go away, Dad! Please don't go away! I'll be better! I promise!"

Indiana's heart broke, and so did the dam around his eyes. Vision watering, it took but a moment of hesitation before he immediately leapt into a response, "No, Anna, no... I-I'm the one... I'm the one who's been bad."

Anna raked her foreleg across her nose, leaving a trail of snot along her fur as she continued to blubber.

Indiana scrambled up from his seat, moving around the table to sit next to his daughter, "I don't ever mean to go away from you, I just-"

"Then why do you always look so excited when you tell me you're going to Egypt, or to Brazil, or somewhere else!?" Anna managed, breath immediately hitching afterwards as her body shook with every sob.

"Anna, I don't ever want to leave you," Indiana immediately clarified, "Sometimes, I need to go somewhere, because I need to..." Indiana's mind quickly scanned for an explanation aside from the truth, "I need to pay the bank, or for the furniture, or for Mr Sanders. I never want to leave you, Anna. You're a good girl, I love you so, so much."

Anna didn't say a word, but she leaned over and buried her face into her father's side. Wet tears immediately soaked through his expensive overcoat. However, Indiana reached out and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her to sit on his lap and cuddle up against his chest.

Patting her slowly on the back, Indiana soothed, "Anna, I would never, ever want to send you away for anything in the entire world. Not even for a thousand trips to Egypt."

Anna sniffed, turning her head and looking up towards his face with one eye, the other buried against his undershirt still, "You promise?"

"I promise," Indiana assured.

It was the second week of school for the second semester. Indiana's absence from his classes that begun in a few hours would not be missed. Still, it was the farthest thing from his mind as he held his daughter close, the sun's rays slowly travelling upwards through the windows lining the dining room wall.

"Anna, it isn't right to you that I gotta keep going for such a long time," Indiana muttered eventually, "And when you do something that isn't right, you do something to make up for it, yeah?"

"M-Mhm?" Anna whimpered, a smaller trickle of tears still coming down her face as she was rocked slowly on his lap.

"Well whenever I'm home, I gotta make it up to you for leaving you here with old Uncle Marcus, right?" Indiana suggested, adjusting his grip on her so that she leaned back to look up to his face. He gave her an uncertain smile, reaching up to wipe some of his own tears.

Anna sniffed, before nodding, "U-Uncle Marcus is more boring than trying to read my books to you!"

Indiana chuckled. She reciprocated with a snort of her own. Soon, a mutual laugh shook them both, finally breaking the tension.

"I wanna do something with you, alright? To make up for all the lost time? I take in Egypt?" Indiana said, "Just uh... please no more books."

"No more books," Anna nodded, before squirming out of her father's grip. Eventually, she narrowed her eyes, looking up at him with an almost... sly look, "How big can this something be?"

"Anything you wanna do," Indiana said, ignoring the part of his mind that was screaming not to put such a big offer on the table in front of an eight-year-old.

"Can we go to New York?"

For but a moment, Indiana thought about how painful and tiring the logistics of fulfilling that request would be. He had classes that day, then the next day, then office hours on the day after that... then there would be the expenses. A trip into NYC would be at least an overnight, requiring a hotel, packing...

The telephone rang slightly as it was taken off the reciever, the dial beneath it whirring as Indiana called his university. After getting through Marshall's internal switchboard to the office of his course supervisor, he quickly declared himself sick for the next few days, gave no more explanation than that, then packed a briefcase for an overnight and walked out the door with his daughter.

A four hour train ride went from Bedford to New Haven, then proceeded east to New York City. After a short stop to rest their legs in New Haven, they re-boarded the train to make the rest of the journey out of the state. Filled with energy, Anna bounced slightly on her seat as she stared out the window.

"You like travelling?" Indiana asked, voice earnestly curious as he followed her gaze out towards the distant ocean.

"Is this travelling?" Anna asked.

"Yeah."

"Then I do!"

Indiana nodded slowly, "You know, when I was about your age, my mom and dad took me out to Africa and Europe."

"When I was five, you took me to see Europe," Anna recounted, looking up at him completely innocently as she relayed a fact most obvious to the both of them.

"I sure did," Indiana huffed, "But my dad did it because he was already a doctor, and he was giving lectures to a bunch of different universities across the world."

Anna blinked, "What's your dad like?"

"...He wasn't a very nice guy," said Indiana after a long, deliberating pause.

To Indiana's great displeasure, Anna pressed the subject like any curious child would, "Why wasn't he very nice?"

"He never said things like, 'I love you'. He always just told me to do my chores, to go read my books, and to just leave him alone while he worked," Indiana eventually said.

Anna frowned, "You don't like reading books?"

"I gotta read a lot of books for my job, Anna," Indiana gave a slightly amused smile, "But not like you do. You like to read different kinds of books."

"I suppose so," Anna nodded, before looking up again, "What about your mom? Was she nice?"

Indiana averted his eyes for a moment. He didn't want to go through the awkward conversation that was explaining parental death to his young child, especially when it would likely do nothing but terrify her. Eventually, he decided to change the question, "Have you ever thought much about you not having a mom?"

"Tommy says his friend Jeffery from school doesn't have a mom," Anna said plaintively, "He says that happens when mom and dad don't love each other no more."

"Don't love each other anymore," Indiana almost automatically corrected.

"Don't love each other anymore," Anna nodded, "He says it's real sad when that happens. I'm probably lucky to not have a mom, cause then that can't happen."

Giving a few blinks at his daughter's flawed logic, Indiana eventually shrugged, "I suppose that's one upside, yeah."

"Tommy says I'm adopted," Anna said, leaning on a hoof, "Cause he says he knows a boy who's a Chinese, but his parents are American. He says the Chinese was someone else's child, but then another family said they wanted to take care of him instead. And everyone knows that if you're American, you have an American child, not a Chinese one."

Nodding very slowly, Indiana, amazed at the amount of knowledge his daughter had somehow collected behind his back, queried, "And... how do you feel about that? About being adopted?"

"Well apparently it's fine. Even though the Chinese boy looks different than his parents, he acts like a normal boy. Apparently I act like a normal boy too!" Anna nodded eagerly, before pausing and scrunching up her muzzle, "...even though I'm a girl."

Indiana gave a soft laugh, clasping his hands in front of him on the table that separated the two in their train booth, "Anna, there isn't anything wrong with being Chinese... or with being you. You don't have to act a certain way to be fine."

"But Americans are cool. We believe in democracy, freedom, and Christmas," Anna blinked, "Why wouldn't you want to be an American?"

"Do you think being Chinese means you don't do those things?" Indiana gave a slight smirk.

"I mean, I thought that was just imp- imp- impic- impa-"

"Implied?"

"Implied!" Anna said, shrugging and adding, "I mean why would they be called something different if they were just like us?"

Indiana paused, pursing his lips, before eventually nodding to himself and saying, "You remember Uncle Richard?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Well you know how his skin is black, while mine is white?"

"Mhm?"

"Well..." Indiana tilted his head, "That means he's an African."

"I remember that! Sanders told me that when he was teaching me about geography. He said that Africans are usually black or brown, or Arabs..." she scrunched her muzzle, "I dunno what the difference is."

"Anna, a long time ago, some people said that Africans weren't as good as white people. The people from Europe?" Indiana said, putting on his serious voice as he locked eyes with Anna.

"White people are in Europe, America, and Australia," Anna recited, before finally seemingly to catch the meaning of her father's words, "Why'd they say that?"

"Cause some greedy people wanted to make Africans work really hard for no money," Indiana sighed, "And they paid smart people like me, Uncle Marcus, and Uncle Johan to say that because of the color of their skin, or the shape of their noses, they were stupider than white people."

Anna's expression had faded into a frown, "Are you talking about slavery? Mr Sanders was telling me that America fought a war to end it."

"The American Civil War. Circa 1870, I think..."

"It was 1861..."

"Right, 1861," Indiana shook his head. Despite his extensive knowledge of global history, he had always had a dark spot around his own home country's history, "Yeah, but so many people believe what those smart people said that they still say that Africans like Richard should be treated like animals. Even though today Africans don't need to work as slaves."

Behind Anna's eyes, something clicked, and she nodded to herself, "...Like they said about me, right?"

Indiana took a deep breath, before saying, "...Right."

"I think I get it," Anna eventually said.

"When I was young, I met someone named Omar," Indiana recounted, "He was about my age, and he was an African. The place he lived in still had slavery as legal. He wasn't going to ever be able to learn how to read, or travel the world, or do any of the things he wanted to.

"One day. Me and him ran out of the palace and into the marketplace. We were taken by slave traders who mistook me for an African-"

"How'd they make that mistake?"

"I was covered in shoe polish," Indiana admitted with a slight shake of his head, "We were taken all the way across the desert. I was going to be sold to someone. I'd never see my family again, can you imagine that?"

Fear flashed in Anna's eyes. Indiana quickly realized she knew exactly what that would feel like.

Quickly moving on, Indiana finished, "But a brave man named Ned Lawrence came and stopped it. He freed me and Omar and we went back home," a pause, "So when they say that they want to treat someone different because they're Chinese or African, just imagine how you would feel if you were being treated like that."

"...What happened to Omar?" Anna asked, eyes wandering slightly as she breathed heavily, obviously trying to vent her anxiety.

"Back in 1911, seventeen years ago, his country finally made slavery illegal. He's free now, to go do whatever he wants," Indiana smiled, "I still keep up with him. He's a sea captain, now."

"Like Uncle Richard?"

"Like Uncle Richard," Indiana affirmed, "But remember- when you see somebody who looks different, just know that deep down they aren't different at all. Remember what you said to the judge? You're every bit a normal girl as every other one. Just like every girl is no different from the rest, no matter what they look like."

Anna nodded, chest puffed confidently.

The brakes on the train squealed as it pulled into Grand Central Station. Together, they stepped out of the train onto one of the busiest platforms in the entirety of the United States. A vaulted ceiling overlooked the area where trains pulled in and took off, all on a constant ticking time set off by a glowing clock that constantly told when the next line was about to accept boarding.

Anna had the luxury of flying above it all, eyes wide as she drunk in the sights once again, while Indiana lugged their overnight luggage behind her and fought the crowd to get to the exit. He was no stranger to cities, but mostly had contented himself with learning to grin and bear them. He felt much better in a rural, quieter area, or in the remote embrace of the wilderness. Places where there were fewer expectations and fewer eyes.

Anna, however, accustomed to the constant stares of the crowd and with the ability to soar above it, was energized as she zipped around the terminal. She examined every single little thing, giggled as she stood on top of places she was clearly not meant to be, and boggled the eyes of conductors and engineers as she flew up and down parked trains.

Indiana waited for her to have her fun, standing by the exit with the slightest concern that his entire day would be watching Anna watch trains. Eventually, though, she flew over with a grin on her face, "What're we doing first, Dad!?"

"I dunno," Indiana admitted, the words bringing a slight feeling of lightness to his heart, "What do you want to do?"

"I dunno!" Anna giggled, "You're the grownup, Dad!"

Indiana threw his hands up in exaggerated surrender, "I suppose I am. Well..." he turned, looking around for a moment as he thought. Suddenly, his eye landed on a flyer plastered on a nearby wall.

'VISIT THE CONEY ISLAND CYCLONE'

Indiana had never been on a rollercoaster before, but he'd heard good things about Coney Island. After all, this was a trip entirely about spontaneity, right?

Indiana Jones had been on many a wild ride before. He'd flown airplanes, ridden horses, fought treasure hunters on the back of moving trains, and rocketed uncontrollably down stone pits into death. Nothing, however, could prepare him for the feeling of speeding and sliding down the tracks of a rickety, wooden structure at sixty miles per hour, clinging with white-knuckles to a lap bar as Anna screamed her lungs out in the seat next to him.

Every single sharp turn turned his stomach as he watched the ground rocket by him below. When he'd been at the helm of a race car, he'd been in control of every turn, brake, and acceleration. Here, though, he felt as if he was clinging onto the back of some sort of beast as it tried his best to fling him free into the air and to a painful splat on the boardwalk below.

Eventually, though, the ride was over, and Indiana was given his hat back by the operator as he stumbled out of his seat. Anna, gait perfectly stable on all four of her legs, jumped and fluttered a few wings as she cheered:

"THAT WAS AWESOME! Can we go again? Can we go again? Canwecanwecanwecanwecanwe!?"

Indiana grabbed onto a railing as he headed back down towards the boardwalk, hair blown back and face white as a sheet, "Don't you get those kinds of kicks out of flying, kid!?"

"Nuh uh! That was way more fun than flying!" Anna insisted, staying at the top of the stairs despite her father walking down it.

Indiana gave her a look of disbelief. Had she really already gotten to the stage where she found flying boring? If he had wings, he sure wouldn't find it boring. With a shake of his head, he gestured her down the stairs, "No, come on, let's do something else. There's plenty to do around here, probably..."

"Aw, man..." Anna sulked, following her father down the stairs reluctantly.

Despite Indiana's upset stomach, they had turned down having lunch on time in order to go straight to the roller-coaster. So, they went to a place labelled an 'Automat'. Apparently, the entire point was that food was served via machines that could detect how many nickels you had put in, then dispensed whatever order you desired. Apparently, they had been around for a while... not that Indiana had ever been to one. There wasn't much in the way of vegetarian options, but Anna contented herself in an extra large serving of fries while Indiana got something for himself.

"What'll they think of next?" Indy whispered to himself, watching as the machine whirred and served.

The rest of the afternoon was spent touring the various attractions the parks had to offer. There were live circus-like performances, where Indiana and Anna mutually enjoyed nitpicking the style of a performer using a bullwhip (it was rather sloppy, in their very professional opinions!), some sort of fairy-tale ride, and a hot dog shop that Indiana didn't visit as he didn't want to tempt Anna into eating something not good for her.

At this rate, Indiana figured, Anna was making him into a vegetarian. He'd grown so unaccustomed to meat that the fish he'd eaten for lunch had become foreign to him. What would his mother think about him not eating his proteins?

Indiana had no desire to have Anna around when the morally dubious Coney Island became dark. So, as soon as the sun nicked the horizon, he ushered her from their final attraction - the Ferris wheel - back to the subway to head into the city. Exhaustion hit Indy like a truck. The lack of sleep the previous night, combined with the high-energy activities of the day meant he was nearly dozing off in the subway.

The last 'activity' of the day was at the docks. Anna bet she could fly all the way to Liberty Island and touch the torch on top of the Statue of Liberty. Indiana gave her a spot to meet him at, before walking away to book a hotel room. He came back to find her flying back from the Statue and talking about how much more impressive it was when she could fly up and down it.

"I thought flying was boring?" Indiana queried.

"Flying is boring. But you can see cool things while flying, so I guess it's not that bad," Anna shrugged.

Their hotel room wasn't resplendent - Indy couldn't afford anything more than the standard fare - but it was cozy after a long day on the city. Anna volunteered to go and have a bath first while Indiana rested a bit on his bed. By the time she had done cleaning herself, she came out to find him fast asleep on top of his sheets, two-day old professorly outfit still on his body and boots still on his feet.

He finally showered the next day, shortly before they had a quick fly through Central Park and boarded the train heading home. As they travelled, Anna began to ask about Indiana's childhood, which lead him into a story. A story about a certain golden cross that he briefly possessed while him and his father lived in Utah.

As she sat, eyes wide and buzzing with excitement from their day out, Indiana finally realized:

He'd found out what she liked.

18: The First Daring-Do, Part 1, 1929

It was a beautiful summer Saturday in Bedford. The trees glowed with life and the sky was a vibrant blue with only the occasional cloud to ruin the days. A freshly mowed lawn of grass skirted around the Morrison home, and the push-mower was parked sloppily in front of the half-opened garage doors. The kitchen hummed with life as Ms. Morrison prepared several sandwiches for lunch, with a special surprise waiting in the cupboard.

Upstairs, in Jeremy's room, two kids sat on the single bed. Between them, an office binder was opened, filled with typed pages.

"You wrote all this yourself?" Jeremy asked, head cocked as he read off the pages.

Anna, sitting on her haunches right next to him but only coming up to around his neck in height, nodded, "Yeah. Uncle Marcus gave me a typewriter on my last birthday. It makes doing this stuff super easy, and I don't like writing with pencils even though Mr. Sanders makes me do it anyway. It's the first time I've tried something like this. It was meant to be for a project for school, but I just kept writing and writing..."

"Did'ja get an A?" Jeremy cracked a small smile.

"No," Anna frowned, "I went over the word limit a bunch and he said the grammar was no good. I got a B."

"Wow, he's tough. My English teacher would'a given me an A for something like this," Jeremy looked back down at the book, seemingly conniving something... before losing the plot and shaking his head.

"Well, that's Mr Sanders. He says it builds my character or something, whatever that means," Anna paused, before adding, "He's really an okay guy, though."

"Well you won't need to do stuff with him for much longer with the break n' all. Are you gonna come to camp with us?" Jeremy asked, looking away from Anna's book at his friend.

"I can't," Anna sighed, tail flicking in annoyance, "Dad wants me to stay and study over the summer. And he doesn't like the idea of me going to camp, cause of the other kids. He likes teaching me stuff over the summer, and he wants me to take some extracurricular stuff that I was interested in."

"Wow. It sounds like you're gonna enjoy not going to camp," Jeremy looked back down at the pages of Anna's book.

"Well I kinda enjoyed the whip stuff," Anna's memories went to the time she snuck her 'totally not a toy' custom bullwhip out to her friends' meetup and did whip tricks all day until Indiana caught her and grounded her, "And sometimes he takes me to go for walks in the forest and to go and explore around. But it's always either in the big city or real close to town. I wanna go with you all. It sounds fun."

"Probably can't anyway, I think it's probably just for boys or something," Jeremy tried to soften the blow, before changing the subject, "You said your dad told you the stuff in this book is real?"

"Yeah," Anna nodded, "And I believe him."

Jeremy snickered, placing his finger on a page, "'And then when Indiana Jones woke up, he was on a ship in the Underworld. The cavern stretched out in all directions and towered under him, and he realized that he was looking up at the crust of the earth he walked on above him'. You telling me your dad discovered the world's hollow as a wormy apple and nobody knew about it?"

Anna blushed slightly, crossing her forelegs and looking away, "W-Well... it happened! Swear!"

"Sure, you know my Dad tells me all kinds of things and I'm not sure all of them are real-" Jeremy paused as a shout emanated through his bedroom window.

"Anna! Anna! Dinner time!"

Anna sighed, taking the notebook and closing it, "Well, time for me to go. When do you go to camp?"

"Monday," Jeremy sighed, "Real shame we can't go together. But I'll see you next month, promise!"

Ever since Indiana had returned from his trip to Easter Island in late January, more and more neat things had appeared around their home. A radio set had been purchased to sit with the rest of their furniture in the lounge, which Anna found entertaining to listen to while reading or working on her homework. Their old icebox had been sold off and in its place a brand new refrigerator was put in - which was apparently just an icebox but it used electricity instead of ice. A car had found its place in their garage, which had until now just been a place where the cobwebs and critters had dominated.

To the music coming in over the radio, the Joneses ate their dinner - tomato soup and crackers. A meal of average complexity and splendor for the extremely mediocre adult in charge of the kitchen. Still, even though it came from a can, it was effective enough to sate Anna's tastes.

Anna was a lot of things, but she wasn't fussy about food.

"How was your day?" Indiana asked casually, chewing on a soup-soaked biscuit.

"I showed Jeremy my writing project," Anna said, pausing to slurp the soup from her spoon before adding, "He said that the earth isn't hollow."

Indiana winced, "I told you not to spread that story around, Anna. That was meant to be just between you and me."

"He thought it was fake anyway, so it doesn't matter," Anna shrugged, pursing her lips and rocking back and forth in her seats a few times as she took another spoonful, eyes locked onto her father.

Indiana raised an eyebrow at her unusually intense stare, before muttering, "So, uh, excited to learn Spanish? You know, there's some people down on Talon that speak it... I met them during the, uh, Ford's big new year's bash..."

"Hey Dad," Anna suddenly interrupted.

"...Yes?"

"Soooo I can't go to camp with Jeremy and Tommy and Bob, right?" Anna asked, suddenly leaning a cheek into her forehoof and smiling up at him.

Indiana, somehow, knew exactly where this was going as soon as he saw Anna's demeanour change. Still, he asked: "That's right. Why?"

"Wellll, maybe I could visit them while they were there? I mean it's just about, like, thirty minutes fly from here? Probably? I'd be back before dinner and we could still do all my classes and stuff," Anna wiggled slightly, then waggled her eyebrows.

Indiana briefly considered the merit of the proposal. She was in for a lonely summer, considering most of her friends were going to be out of town. Then again, though, the entire point of not sending her off to one of these activities was to limit her exposure to a large amount of other children. Besides, just because she claimed to have been able to navigate perfectly well over the Pacific Ocean didn't mean she was going to be able to find her way from the deep woods back to town easily.

He shook his head, "My answer's still no."

"OH COME ON!" Anna screamed, making Indiana wince in annoyance, "I'm not even going to be doing anything until next week! What am I supposed to do? Just sit around and do nothing all day!?"

"Go flying, read some books, go to the library..." Indiana listed out some obvious answers.

"I could go flying to where all my friends are!" Anna threw her forehooves in the air, making her bowl rattle with her sudden movement.

"I said no, Anna," Indiana said firmly, "Listen to your father."

Anna paused, mouth agape. Her face morphed into one of barely reigned anger as she pouted, cheeks reddening. The feathers on her wings puffed out as she broke eye contact and folded her forelegs. A long pause reigned as Indiana continued to eat, the obstinate Anna continuing to stew in her anger from her place across the table.

"Are you going to eat?" Indiana eventually asked.

Anna responded to that query by growling, jumping off her chair, and running upstairs.

Indiana simply sighed and picked up her bowl and plate, taking it to the kitchen. Once she got over herself and realized how hungry she was, her punishment would be a cold dinner and then an early bedtime.

Anna, however, never came back down from her room. Instead, she sat on her bed, staring intently out her window as the gears in her head turned. She still had one day before Jeremy left for camp, and even if her father decided to ground her for her behaviour, she could still easily fly over in the night and knock on his window. Taking her pencil and her notebook, flipping to the next blank page after the 'the end' of her story, she began to write her epic battleplan...

Step 1: Wake up at midnight

The alarm bell rang, the clock going off 7 whole hours before it was meant to. Anna, initially grumpy at being woken up in the middle of the night, was suddenly filled with energy as she remembered what that night was supposed to be. Silencing her clock as soon as possible, she paused, sitting up in bed as her ears panned for any sign of movement from the bedroom on the other side of the wall that her bed was pushed up against.

Nothing. She grinned, tossing off her blankets.

Step 2: Gather supplies

First, she opened the door of her bedroom, taking another look around and biting her lip. With a rush, hooves padding on the carpet, she made her way down the stairs. Under the kitchen sink, a flashlight with some batteries were stored. She took it, along with a few crackers out of a jar in the pantry. For the road, of course.

Going back to her room and closing the door, she waited once again to see if she had roused her father. A soft snore drifted across an alert ear, assuring her thundering heart as she inched towards her bedroom window. She stuffed the flashlight and batteries into her bag, along with her notepad and pen. Taking a ruler from her school supplies and undoing the latch on her window, she flew outside.

Step 3: Never leave home without the whip!

Over the roof and down to the opposite side of the second floor, she found herself level with the study. There was no light coming from the inside, and the curtains were drawn. Her father liked his privacy when he was in his study and also didn't like it when she showed off her whip training to her friends without his supervision. After the fifth time she'd smashed something, cut somebody up, or lost her whip in a tree, he'd locked it up in his study to only be brought out when it was practice time.

The ruler's thin, wooden frame slipped under the window crack and forced the latch holding it closed. With a thrill, Anna pumped her hoof as the latch unlocked and the window slid open. She carefully parted the curtains, breathing a sigh of relief when the study was, indeed empty. The paranoid part of her had wondered what would've happened if her father had fallen asleep in his study again, which was a paranoia that had not been fully dispelled even after she heard his snores from his bedroom.

Creeping inside, she squinted as the light of the full moon outside illuminated the room in a pale glow. She had no actual idea where he would've kept her whip, and hoped dearly it was not in the small safe that found its place on top of one of the shelves in the corner.

Remembering an incident from a few years ago, she looked down towards the drawers of the desk itself. Opening one, she found his revolver, holster, and bullets again. Shaking her head and opening the other, she beamed as she laid her eyes on the prize - a pair of whips. One of them was her father's spare, the other was hers.

Grabbing it, she shoved the whip drawer closed and hurriedly backed out of the study, dragging the window closed behind her and taking wing back towards her bedroom. There, she made her final preparations by throwing off her pijamas, shrugging on a dirty pair of pants and a shirt and clipping her whip to her belt, just like how she was trained to in practice time. Finally, she fished around amongst the toys and random junk spread across her bedroom floor until she found a brochure.

"Camp Hadley," Anna whispered to herself, opening the brochure to the map of the site. A short walk north from the main camp area was an old, rusty railroad. A spot on it had been circled in red, along with the words '1AM'. A quick check of her alarm clock saw its hands pointing towards 12:13.

Step ~~5~~ 4!: Fly to the camp and meet them by the old railroad!

Hopefully the wind was in her favor and the boys hadn't messed up some part of the plan. Anna took one look around, making sure she'd not forgotten anything. A draft blew in through the window, from an unusually cool summer's night. The cold didn't bother Anna's fur-coated hide, but she hoped her friends had remembered to pack a jacket despite the season.

Putting on her backpack, she closed her window behind herself before taking wing into the night. She'd be back by sunrise, and her father would be none the wiser.

Step 6: Have a great night and be back by morning!

Indiana awoke in a cold sweat, one of his many recurring dreams still fading before his eyes as his heart pounded in his chest. What a strange twist on the same formula that nightmare had been: not only had the entire trench erupted into laughter as he watched that man die of gas, but they hadn't even been laughing at the death. They'd been laughing at Indiana pissing his pants... which he apparently hadn't even been wearing!

Lowering himself back into the pillows, Indiana suddenly winced as he realized the pressure in his bladder was not just an artefact of the dream. Tossing off his sheets, he gave a glance towards the time: 1:13, before shaking his head and walking out towards the bathroom.

One flush later, Indiana went to grab a drink of milk from the refrigerator to calm his nerves before getting back into bed. However, as he passed the door to his study, a noise caught his ear. A flapping of paper, followed by a draft whispering from underneath the door.

His forehead creased as he tried the handle. Still locked, but the draft was strange. He never left the window of his study open, ever. Not since it had been broken into by his daughter.

A familiar gut feeling prompted him to slowly backtrack towards his bedroom. Gathering his automatic from under his pillow and keys from the side of his bed, he cautiously made his way to his study and unlocked it, allowing the barrel of his gun to go through the door first. On the other side, he found an empty room, a window left barely ajar, parted curtains, and papers blown from the desk all over the floor.

With an annoyed grunt, he stepped inside to close and latch the window properly. Switching on the light, he looked around to make sure nothing had been taken, just in case it wasn't just that he had forgotten to close the window after letting in some air the previous day. His eyes immediately landed on the drawer with his revolver in it, which was hanging open... but otherwise undisturbed.

Frowning, his hand went to the other drawer at his desk, opening it to find his spare whip... and nothing else. A flash of realization crossed his face as he turned, walked through the study door, and grasped the handle of Anna's bedroom door. The hinges squeaked softly as he peeked inside, finding nothing but an empty bed.

"Anna?" he said in a level voice, flicking on the light and entering the room properly. Even with the lights on and a full survey of the room, there was no sign of her. Raising a hand to his forehead, Indiana swore, "Goddamnit Anna. Why're you growing up to be so much like me?"

Three boys stalked their way out of the lodge. Escaping via the window and carefully crawling down the roof had been quite a thing, but after jumping down to the ground and exchanging a few whispers, there was no sign of any lights coming on around the camp or any shouts from the counsellors. One of the boys took out a dynamo flashlight, operating the crank and reaching into a pocket, procuring a small bronze compass. With a tilt of his head, he urged his two friends towards the forest on the northern border of the camp, their footsteps as they ran propelled by the fire of rebellion and the fear of being caught.

Through bush and bramble, the boys tramped down a barely-kept trail, following the compass needle constantly northwards. They only stopped occasionally to wind the flashlight back up, the moonlight failing to fully pierce the canopy overhead and light their way. Eventually, they stumbled out of the bushes onto an area that had been paved with a gravel bed and topped with rusty, metal rails and wooden sleepers.

"Anna!" Jeremy shouted into the forest.

"Shhh!" Tommy elbowed the other kid in the ribs.

"Ow! What was that for?" Jeremy complained, rubbing the spot.

"They'll hear us, nitwit!" Tommy argued in a low, raspy whisper.

"We're ages away from the camp at this point," Jeremy rolled his eyes, pulling his light jacket closer to him as the unusually cold night's chill bit at his exposed skin.

Bob was the last to burst from the bush, wheezing and panting as he finally caught up to his two, more agile friends. Reaching down to his pair of expensive, sturdy boots, he began to undo the laces, muttering, "I got a stone or something in here."

"I can't believe we're doing this," Tommy muttered, "If my pa finds out about this, he'll skin me. My behind will be black and blue before I can say Kentucky."

"At least your dad only owns a belt," Jeremy said, winding up his flashlight again as he searched the surrounding trees for any sign of their friend, "Anna's dad owns a real bullwhip, you know? Imagine how much that's gotta hurt whenever she's due for a whooping."

"Surely Dr Jones doesn't use it for that," Bob said, removing his right boot and shaking it out vigorously.

"What else does he use it for, stupid? Swinging from trees like Tarzan of the Jungle?" Tommy said, bopping Bob on the back of the head.

"Hey!" Bob complained, finally removing the pebble from his boot.

The fluttering of wings in the air silenced the boys as Jeremy finally turned his flashlight skywards. A gold-colored rat-bird descended upon them, forehead crinkled and a frown on her muzzle as she landed in front of them, "Hey! I told you to meet me east of here!"

"Nuh-uh! I followed your instructions and just went north from the camp!" Jeremy said, holding out the compass towards her, "See?"

"No, on the brochure map you can clearly see the place I circled had an old water tower near it. That's up over there, you're west of that!" Anna complained, jabbing a hoof down the tracks.

"How was I supposed to know that?" Jeremy shook his head, winding up his flashlight again, "Your dad know anything?"

"No, he was asleep when I left. As long as I'm back by morning, it'll be fine I think," Anna said, leaning to the side to look towards Bob and Tommy, "Hi."

Bob took a hand off of the job of re-doing the laces on his boot to wave. Tommy gave a nod.

"So, what're we doing tonight?" Anna asked, looking back towards Jeremy.

"We heard the coolest story from one of the older campers yesterday, while we were sitting around the fire," Jeremy grinned.

Bob groaned, "Oh come on. I don't wanna hear that. That was scary!"

"Don't be such a baby," Tommy urged, bopping the other boy on the back of his head.

As the two scuffled behind him, Jeremy walked up to Anna and began to explain, "Well you know how Hadley was an old mining town?"

"Yeah?" Anna asked, giving a glance as the two boys wrestled each other, before turning her attention back to Jeremy.

"Well they say that somewhere in the woods, there was an old mineshaft where they dug for ore. There was this rich old guy who owned the mine, named Hadley of course, that was super mean to his workers. Keeping them in debt by hiking up the prices on food and stuff, since he owned all the grocery stores in the town, and giving them long hours and low pay," Jeremy crouched, getting on Anna's eye level before continuing, "One day the miners said they had enough. They had one of them strikes, and before people could come to break it up they stormed the owner's cabin and dragged him off.

"They threw him into the deepest shaft in the mine along with all of his money. Mysteriously though, even though they went ahead and broke up the strike a while after, disaster after disaster kept hitting the mine," Jeremy raised his flashlight, shining it up his chin to shadow his face creepily, "Fires, collapses, floods. They ended up shuttin' it down. When the miners finally left, they told stories about seeing a ghostly man, shambling about the shafts like every bone in his body was shattered. They didn't ever find the Hadley's body either!"

Anna rolled her eyes. She was nine years old now, stories like that didn't scare her like they did when she was eight! Besides, her real nightmares were scarier than random stories, "You trying to scare me or something?"

Jeremy glanced over his shoulder towards the two other boys, who had both paused their fighting. Tommy immediately looked away, pretending as if he hadn't been caught with a wide-eyed expression and trembling lips. Bob, for his part, was frozen, shivering in his boots.

"Well I thought it might be a cool place to check out," Jeremy said, finally lowering his flashlight again.

"Did they tell you where it was?" Anna asked, tilting her head.

"No, 'course not, but it's gotta exist I figure. You could fly and try and see where it is," Jeremy said, looking back and forth down both wings of the railway, "They probably moved ore back and forth on these tracks. The mine would probably be connected somehow."

"Good point," Anna hummed, before her ears suddenly perked. Giving a sly look over towards her friends, she said, "You know, if what they said about the money was real, I bet our folks would be pretty stoked if we found it."

"If it's even real," Tommy muttered, "It's just a story. People fib all the time in stories."

Bob blinked, breaking out of his stupor, "Even if we did find it, we'd have to tell everyone we broke the rules. We'd get our hides tanned!"

"Not if we also get them a bunch of money, stupid!" Tommy said.

"Come on, Anna can you find it?" Jeremy urged.

Anna shrugged, "I'll try. Wait here a sec."

Anna shot off like a rocket into the sky, disappearing against the blanket of stars and the full moon as she gained altitude. Jeremy's flashlight beam searched the sky, failing to find her before he needed to lower the light and recharge it again. For a while, they were left in the night silence, with nothing but the distant rustling of leaves, the hoot of an owl, and their own breathing to break the silence.

"I hope we got the right stuff," Jeremy murmured, "Should we go back to try and get a rope? Won't we need one if we're going down a big mineshaft?"

"You want to go and steal now?" Bob grimaced.

"Nah. The shed with all the supplies would definitely be locked," Tommy shook his head, "You aren't actually thinking of going down into some dank old pit because of a campfire story, right?"

"Well, it might be-" Jeremy started, before suddenly the fluttering of wings filled the air and Anna's form descended back from the night sky.

Anna huffed and puffed a bit, having used more energy than usual to fly at a speed sufficient enough to impress her friends. Pointing down the railway, she said, "I saw it. The railroad splits off a few miles in that direction, leads to a place with a bunch of abandoned buildings and mineshafts."

The three boys looked at each other, then back towards Anna. Jeremy shrugged hesitantly, "Well... we should at least check it out. Beats sitting in the dark and playing truth or dare all night."

Still uncertain, the four friends set out down the tracks. The metal and sleepers, along with the gravel bed beneath them, kept the grass from growing so long underfoot that it impeded walking. The light of the moon, along with the pale beam of Jeremy's dynamo flashlight, lit up their way between the curtains of trees that bordered the old tracks.

"Mom always says not to go on the railroad tracks..." Bob said, breaking the silence of boots and hooves on gravel.

"There ain't gonna be no trains here," Tommy pointed out, kicking a boot against one of the rusted tracks, "You gotta have straight, nice tracks. These ones are all busted up and covered in grass. 'Sides, these are all the wrong gauge for anything else other than those minecart things."

Tommy, being the son of a railroad company foreman, knew more than the other children about the trains. His wisdom was not questioned as they continued their walk. Anna, forced to slow herself to keep pace with the others, sighed as her heart grew slightly heavy. While initially, all she had been afraid with in her plan was her father's anger, now that she was knee-deep in the plan, all she could think about was his disappointment instead.

She shook the bad thoughts out of her head. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Everything would be fine, and she'd be back in bed in the morning like nothing ever happened. If things went exceedingly well, she could maybe even sneak out again another day!

It took a very long time to cross the distance needed to reach the branch-off in the railroad to reach their destination. Anna realized that they wouldn't be able to spend too much time exploring if they wanted to be back in camp by morning, as it was already nearing 2AM. She mentally attempted to stoke the fires of adventure and friendship as they began to walk down the side-track, puffing out her chest as she lead the way.

"Whoah... it really does exist!" Bob said as they turned a corner.

An old wooden fence had been erected over the railroad. A gate, too tall for any normal boy to climb over, blocked the way forward into a clearing in the woods. In said clearing, a creek wove through a few old, musty-looking structures. An old waterwheel had collapsed into the river next to some sort of mill, and several rusty bucket minecarts sat at the end of the railroad they had been walking along. A sign on the gate read "NO ENTRY - HADLEY AND CO. MINING COMPANY".

"Holy crap..." Tommy muttered, pushing past the rest of his friends before looking up at the top of the gate, "Come on, let's jump the fence!"

Anna simply took wing and flew to the top of the fence, watching as her friends clambered their way up between the planks making up the blockade. Bob tried his best, but was grateful when she eventually took out her whip and lowered it for him to grab onto. After being pulled the top, he tumbled over the side and ungracefully fell with a thump and a pained grunt to the ground on the other side.

The other children, however, were too enamoured with the sight before them to care about his pained struggles on the ground. The looming structures, barely illuminated by the moon and the waning beam of Jeremy's flashlight, were dead silent. The wind picked up, whistling through empty yards and rustling the trees. Something howled, making all except Anna freeze in place.

"J-Jeremy, didn't you say this place was haunted?" Bob muttered, standing in a half-squat as his knees quivered slightly.

"Y-Yeah..." Jeremy muttered, only to jump as another light suddenly flashed on behind him.

Anna wielded her own, battery-operated flashlight. The one that her father would generally use to change the fuses when it was dark out. Thankfully, despite its age, it still worked just fine, its wider, stronger beam replacing Jeremy's as the other child decided he didn't want to bother winding up his light again.

"You know, this is cool and all, b-but maybe we should get back to camp," Tommy said, backing up slowly and placing one boot on the bottom plank making up the structure of the gate, "We should make sure we're b-back in time, after all!"

"What, you scared?" Anna asked, "I thought I was the girl here! Chicken!"

"Nobody calls me chicken, spitwad!" Tommy said, jabbing a finger at her.

Anna's giggles filled the air as she instantly spread her wings and flew out of Tommy's range. Swinging her flashlight around, she gestured towards the camp, "Come on! Let's explore. Maybe we can find the shaft they threw that guy into!"

Jeremy took a deep breath, following Anna as she hovered deeper into the old mining compound, "Well, we may as well while we're here..."

The other two boys looked at each other, before hurrying to follow along. The only thing worse than being in a spooky, abandoned mine was being alone in a spooky, abandoned mine. The only thing on their side of the creek was the minecart building, which was only filled with dusty old planks and a few boring rocks. The bridge across the creek had collapsed at some point, so the boys went to wade across it.

Bob screamed as something splashed next to him, causing him to fall over and land in the water with a crash. Tommy helped him up as Jeremy scrambled back up onto the bank, eyes scanning the water for whatever caused the noise. Anna's light went down into the water, where a few dark figures moved with the current downstream.

"It's just some fish," Anna said, comfortably and dryly hovering above the water.

"I thought it was the loch ness monster or something!" Bob said, unsteadily wading across the rest of the creek and flicking water off his hands and arms, "Dangit, I hope this dries before we go back..."

The cabins had mostly been cleared out, leaving only empty bedframes, cobwebs, and critter droppings on the floors. They moved to cabins on higher ground, which seemed to be a bit more homely than the square blockhouses built down near the creek. Some of them were even signed, with one building being labelled as a stockhouse, another as a foreman's cabin, and finally one with a (collapsed) fence labelled 'Hadley'. It was the only building in the area that had glass windows, which initially excited the four...

...until they searched it and found there were no secret passages leading to treasure, locked chests, or anything at all for that matter. It too had been cleared out.

"They probably sold everything off when the mine shut down," Jeremy finally reasoned, "Well, better get back now..."

"We still got a few more hours until sunup," Anna retorted, exiting first out the front door of the Hadley cabin, "Besides, we haven't even checked the mineshafts!"

"Those're dangerous!" Bob said, dusting off his hands and smearing dirt across his wet clothes, "They could collapse or something!"

"We won't go too deep," Anna insisted, flying ahead down the hill.

Past the cabins and structures of the mine was a tall, rocky hill. Several shafts, now overgrown with grass and trees, had been dug into the side of said hill. There were a few shafts that went directly down as well, tighter and more constricted than the full sized, sloped ones in the side. The ground-born kids gave the straight, vertical drops a large berth. Anna, however, stared directly down into them with curiosity. Ladders lead down a few of them, which were just wide enough for a grownup to fit and spacious enough for a child to fit comfortably.

Jeremy finally wound up his flashlight, shining it down one of the horizontal shafts in the side of the hill, "Nothing but rocks and beams down there."

Anna narrowed her eyes, looking down one of the vertical shafts. Wordlessly, she began to descend into it, her wingspan just barely fitting through the constrained space. The boys turned around to survey the area, only to find Anna completely missing.

"Anna?" Tommy shouted out.

The wind howled through the area, the shafts echoing with ghostly moans as the wind funnelled through them. The three boys inched closer together as Jeremy's flashlight swept the treeline for any sign of their feathered friend.

"D-did it get her? The ghost?" Tommy whispered.

"I dunno..." Jeremy said, beginning to inch back towards the buildings and the gate, "W-We should get out of here, A-Anna will catch up I'm sure..."

Suddenly something clutched Bob's leg from the shaft he was a few inches from. He screamed and fell, viciously kicking and yelling his lungs out as he backpedalled. Jeremy's flashlight was levelled at the shaft as the two other boys jumped back, illuminating Anna, who was rubbing her muzzle from the impact of one of Bob's boots.

"I thought you were the- the g-g-g-g-ghost!" Bob said, slowly getting up, panting heavily.

"Don't scare us like that!" Jeremy shouted, clutching his flashlight angrily.

"I wasn't trying to scare you," Anna claimed with a slight giggle, before looking down, "I think I found something down here."

The three boys moved hesitantly towards the edges of the shaft, looking down to where Anna's flashlight was illuminating. Below about twenty meters down, the shaft moved diagonally, blocking out whatever she had been looking at.

"I don't see nothing," Tommy said, "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Come on, I'll help you down," Anna said, patting the ladder that lead down the side of the shaft, "If it breaks, I'll catch you."

"The only thing breaking will be a couple'a bones if we fall down there," Tommy argued.

"What're you, chicken?" Anna goaded, before flying down enough to give the kids space to mount the ladder, "C'mon! You'll see!"

Tommy, fists clenching at the word, hesitated for but a moment before mounting the ladder leading down. It creaked with every step. Anna hovered just below him every step of the way, holding out her forehooves to catch him if he would fall. After a few tense seconds, he reached the bottom of the pit, breathing heavily and looking around, eyes wide.

Jeremy gave one look to Bob, before grimacing and taking the plunge. Handing his flashlight down to Anna, who handed it down to Tommy, he began to scale the ladder. He too made it to the bottom successfully, leaving only Bob at the top. As little as the boy wanted to descend into the mine, the desire he felt to remain alone at the top as more ghostly howls emanated from the mines was even lower.

Anna hovered just below him as he descended the ladder, each rung creaking under his boots. About five rungs from the bottom, a loud crack rang out as the aged wood gave out under his weight. With a shout, he stumbled backwards off the ladder, landing right on top of Anna.

The two tumbled head over heels down the shaft until they reached the bottom, where they slid down the diagonal slope all the way until they crashed to the floor of a horizontal chamber. Anna gasped breathlessly as the weight of her friend pinned her down against the roughly-hewn stone of the shaft floor, squinting as Jeremy's flashlight aimed down at them, the other two descending down the diagonal slope with a bit less chaos.

"You okay?!" Jeremy asked.

Tommy reached out to give Bob a hand, "It's okay. I think Anna cushioned my fall."

"Oww..." Anna muttered, finally being allowed to get up as her overweight friend was finally lifted back onto his feet.

"Great. What're the chances now that fatso gets back up the ladder?" Tommy asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"Hey! Don't call him that, pinhead!" Jeremy spat, before looking back at Anna, "What was so important that we had to come down into this dusty old place, anyway?"

Wordlessly, Anna reached for her flashlight, which had fallen and gotten trapped under her. It was fortunately still fully functional. Levelling it down the passage, she illuminated an area at the end of the tunnel, where it met in a T-junction. At first, it seemed like a bundle of old, ragged cloth. Nothing they hadn't seen while searching the cabins up on the surface.

However, as they approached it, mouths slowly gaped and eyes widened as the light more closely illuminated it. Bones ran under the moldy, rotten clothes that were once some sort of expensive suit. Hundreds of paper bills surrounded the skeleton, covered in dust and cobwebs. Above it was the longest, deepest shaft they had seen so far, capped off with a wooden roof.

The four friends looked at each other, faces illuminated by the backlight of their two flashlights. In unison, they murmured, "Mr Hadley..."

Author's Note

Time for Daring Do's version of the Last Crusade flashback scene!

Also yes, Indiana Jones canonically finds the hollow earth.

19: The First Daring-Do, Part 2, 1929

The flashlight's beam quavered as Anna slowly approached the skeleton. For once, her friends were not brave enough to move up with her, standing frozen in place as she moved up to investigate. Her mind whispered thoughts about cursed treasures, dark magic, and undead creatures taking their vengeance on the living. The entire thing reminded her far too much about scary stories, one in which a monster would appear under her bed the next night.

Yet, despite the chaos in her mind, she couldn't help but reach out towards one of the bills on the ground. It stuck a bit to the ground, but with a small amount of force it came free with a slight squelch. Blowing the dust off of it, she adjusted her flashlight in order to view its face.

"How much money is that...?" Jeremy's voice suddenly came from over her shoulder, making her jump.

While her back was turned, the rest of her friends had worked up the courage to move forward as well. They all crouched behind her, wide eyed and hands on their knees. With a shake of her head, she looked back to the bill with a scrunch in her muzzle, "Something about this isn't right."

"Lemme see..." Tommy said, reaching out and snatching the note from her. Holding it out in front of Jeremy's flashlight, he squinted, then frowned, "Hey! This is a bum note!"

Anna took another bill from the ground, this one being less dirty. Instead of the face of a president on it, it simply had a circle stamped in the middle with the value '5$' on it. Along the margins was the text: "HADLEY MINING COMPANY - NON-TRANSFERRABLE. Redeemable only at the Company Store".

"This is fake money or something!" Tommy cried, crumpling up his note and throwing it to the floor.

"The loggers out west of Bedford use something like this," Bob said, picking up the crumpled note, "It's called company script, or something. Dad says sometimes they try and trick the tellers by including it in with real notes in bundles."

"You know what they say about stuff that glitters," Jeremy muttered, "Come on, let's get out of here."

Anna gave an annoyed look over her shoulder, "Just wait a minute, will you?" she demanded, causing her friends to pause.

With the front of her flashlight, Anna slowly turned over the skeleton. Cobwebs broke and bones snapped as the skeleton rolled over. A smashed set of facial bones looked up at Anna, along with hollow, haunting eyes. The front of his coat, the part that had been facing away from exposure to the elements, was in much better state than the rags that covered his back, legs, and arms.

"Guys, I'm really scared," Bob said.

"I am too, Bob," Jeremy assured.

Tommy simply coughed, his feet shuffling as he turned away.

Anna's eyes widened as she saw something. A glint of gold in one of his front pockets. Cautiously, she reached out towards it, gingerly tugging at it until she revealed what was tucked inside. It was a golden chain, connected to a sparkling pocket watch, not a single mark of corrosion or dirt on it.

"Whoah..." Bob suddenly said, "Is that gold?"

There was a scratch on the ground as Tommy's shoes scraped against the tunnel floor, turning around to see the item. Two more sets of shuffling shoes came up as the other two moved to loom over behind her. There was a distant murmur, more shoes on the tunnel floor.

Anna's ears perked up and rotated towards the source of the noise. Distant voices, all adult-sounding. Definitely not echoes, and definitely not coming from her friends.

"Shh..." Anna said, dropping the pocket watch and stepping back. The sounds of footsteps grew closer, and eventually the boys raised their heads as the sound settled on their ears as well. Hurriedly, they moved backwards until they reached the alcove in the tunnel, the same alcove that the diagonal shaft had emptied out into.

"-I'm cold, and dirty, and wet, and cold-"

"Give it a rest, will ya?"

"I thought you was trained by the best of the best, Roscoe," a different voice from the first two said.

"Garth was the best of the best!" the second voice argued back, its sound growing louder as the shuffling of feet grew alongside it, "We'd be set for life if he didn't give that damn hat away."

"What the fuck does a lucky hat have to do anything?" the first voice complained.

"That hat was real lucky. You wouldn't understand!" the second said.

"We wouldn't! We haven't had good luck ever since we signed up with your sorry ass!" the third said.

"Wait! What's that over there?" the apparent leader said, hushing the other two.

Three flashlight beams cut through the darkness up ahead. Eventually, three figures moved around the corner, the four huddled children peeking around the side of the alcove. The light reflecting off the walls from their flashlights splashed back on the three, revealing them all to be adult men. One of them seemed to be about the age of Anna's father, while the others seemed much younger.

Anna's blood chilled as she laid eyes on the silhouette of a long, pair of tubes and a stock held in one of the men's hands. The bulge of a holster protruded from another's side and a with a bandolier of shiny brass-jacketed bullets went across his back as he turned towards the skeleton.

"Holy shit! We found it!" the oldest said after a pause.

"WHEW! YEEWOO!" Another shouted, reaching out for a high-five for the other.

The other man in question, the one with the holster, looked down at the bills beneath their feet, dumbfounded. After being ignored, the one with the shotgun lowered his high five and instead bumped shoulders with him, their cheers echoing down the chasm. At such close range, with the acoustics of the tunnel, none of the children dared to speak as they watched, wide-eyed.

"We're rich! Look at these! Fives! Fifties! Quick! Start stuffing them in the bag!" the leader instructed, jabbing a finger out at Holster, who quickly got to work scooping the false bills into a large duffel bag.

"Look at that watch too! That's a nice watch!" Shotgun pointed out, his face turning slightly into the light to reveal a big, dumb grin as he pointed his shotgun towards the skeleton's chest.

Anna's teeth clenched as she watched the leader grab the watch and rip it, chain and all, out of the man's shirt. Something like that was old, golden, and- and it-

It belonged in a museum!

Something like this required a very carefully thought out plan. Anna's forehead creased as she continued to watch the treasure hunters, no, grave robbers continue to loot the corpse. Turning around, she looked up towards Tommy, lowering her voice as low as possible as she gripped his collar and pulled his ear close.

"Listen. We can't let them steal that thing. Tommy, you're gonna go back to the camp and rouse the counsellors. Tell them that there are strange people in the abandoned mines and bring them back here," Anna whispered, her voice thankfully overridden by the sounds of the robber's whooping and hollering, "You're the fastest and the lightest, you can make it back up the ladder and back over the gate."

Tommy nodded, looking back up the diagonal shaft towards the ladder leading out. Visibly setting his jaw, he began to clamber back up the slope and towards the ladder.

"What's going on?" Jeremy asked, whispering loudly enough to be heard across the small amount of space in the alcove, and just loudly enough to risk being heard by the adults just down the tunnel.

"Shh..." Anna said, drawing the other two close, "You two are gonna help me stop them from stealing that thing. It's a priceless artefact, it belongs in a museum!"

Bob's eyebrows knitted together, "It's just a watch, what do you mean-?"

"Bob, Jeremy. I'm going to go and try and get them from a different direction, via a different shaft. Once I leave, count to twenty then step out and attract their attention," Anna instructed carefully.

"What if they hurt us?" Jeremy hissed.

"They won't..." Anna said, voice quavering as doubts immediately appeared in her mind. Certain adults in her past hadn't hesitated much in trying to hurt her. Still, she shook her head, "Just act like you're lost and need help. If they look like they're gonna shoot you or something, just run and don't look back."

"Oh boy, ohh boy oh man..." Bob muttered, reaching up to cover his eyes.

"Then what're you gonna do?" Jeremy asked, poking Anna in the shoulder.

"Steal the watch back, fly out from one of the shafts and lead them on a chase away from you," Anna said, "Once I snatch the thing, run and look for another way out. Once Tommy's back with the counsellors, they'll find you if you get lost."

Bob and Jeremy looked at each other, uncertain. Anna didn't give them much of a chance to argue, though, as she clambered up the slope after Tommy. She reached the top of the shaft just in time to see Tommy sprinting across the clearing towards the gate and towards the railroad leading back to the camp. He was always the best batter because of how fast he ran, even beating out Anna on land speed.

Sighting another shaft leading down to the lower levels of the mine she began to descend down it, the sounds of the adult's voices fading in as she lowered her altitude. It lowered her into another T-junction, down one path of which was Hadley's corpse, and the sounds of the treasure hunter's conversations.

The three men had turned to look towards one of the tunnels. Shotgun's namesake was fortunately lowered, not aimed in the direction of two boyish voices. Licking her lips, she stalked forward, trying to keep to her tip-hooves as much as possible as she moved towards the backs of the men. Their leader held the watch, gleaming in the light of Jeremy's flashlight. The chain was clenched in his right hand, the watch itself dangling back and forth like a pendulum.

"You boy scouts or something?" the leader asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion as he regarded the two boys, still out of Anna's sight as she crawled closer.

"Uh, no sir! We're from Camp Hadley! Just down the rails!" Jeremy said, voice shaking.

"Please don't shoot us, sirs!" Bob insisted.

Shotgun looked between his two comrades, "We uh, we aren't shooting 'em, right?"

"Of course not, stupid," Holster said, "Right boss?"

"I don't trust no boy scouts sneaking up behind me when I'm about to make a score!" the leader sneered, "How'd you find your way down here? Don't they got guides to watch you snot-nosed kids?"

"We uh, got lost?" Jeremy said, "Like we've been telling you?"

"Come on, boss, they just been lost. Like they keep tellin' us," Holster said.

Anna bit her lip as she approached, low and slow. They were no more than around 10 feet away now, and she was about to be able to see around the corner towards her two friends. She caught a single glance at them, and saw Jeremy's eyes glance towards her before he moved his flashlight beam away from her position. Her heart leapt, though, as the leader suddenly turned around. The fact his flashlight was still aimed at the ground prevented her immediate detection, and she scrambled to hide behind one of the beams holding up the ceiling as the flashlight beam shot right past her.

"You can find your own way out," the man said, "There's a bunch of shafts that lead up. They got ladders."

"The ladders kept breaking," Jeremy said hurriedly, "We're scared, sir! We don't want any trouble, honest!"

"Fine!" the leader said, whirling around, "But no funny business! Archie, if they do anything weird, pump 'em full of lead!"

"They're kids, boss!" Shotgun said.

With the leader's back to her and the prize closer than ever, Anna slowly slunk back around the corner towards the golden watch, swinging back and forth from his hand. Shotgun, however, moved his light to illuminate his boss, forcing her back around the corner.

"We've been waiting for this break for years!" the leader insisted, "Watch the stupid brats!"

Shotgun sighed, "Fine, fine! Come on kids, this way..." he said, turning back towards the two boys.

Heart thundering and coat practically tingling with adrenaline, she thrust forward from her hiding place. Seizing the chain holding the watch with her teeth, she gave it a hearty tug as she got her hooves under her to sprint for a corner. Despite the man's superior grip, the chain slipped free, and soon her hoofbeats rang through the tunnel as she galloped away.

"NOT AGAIN!" the leader cried.

"She's got our thing! Get her!" Holster said.

The corner was inches away. Anna's hooves scrambled against the stones as she barely made the turn. Now with only the occasional sliver of light coming out of the nearby air shafts, she continued to bowl forward through the tunnel. The scrambles of feet came after her along with, eventually, the beams of flashlights.

"Shoot it! Shoot it!"

"But-"

"Give me that!!"

Anna's eyes bugged as she approached the tunnel she had used to flank the hunters. At the last second, she was forced to dive for another passage as orange light filled the tunnel and the floor just behind her exploded, sending shards of stone flying and nicking her flanks. Tripping up and sliding a few feet on her face, she quickly put her hooves back under her as she ran for another tunnel, narrowly avoiding another blast as she went around a corner.

Dead ahead, the tunnel ended with nothing but a pool of moonlight and a ladder leading up towards the surface. Spreading her wings, Anna leapt into the air and began to fly for the exit. A flashlight aimed at her back, filling her vision with bright light as she went for her escape.

Too late did she realize the passage was far too narrow - narrower than many of the others. Her wingtips banged into the sides of the walls, and she awkwardly tumbled back down to the base of the ladder. The breath was knocked out of her lungs as the flashlights aimed at her.

For a second, she looked up to see the hunters halfway down the tunnel, running towards her. Their leader aimed the shotgun right at her, but all that resounded from the gun was a hollow 'click'.

Taking her chance, Anna threw herself onto the ladder. It was exceedingly hard to keep a grip on the rungs, but she began to scale them as quickly as possible as the other two hunters closed the gap. They both rushed to grab the ladder as quickly as possible, only for their bodies to slam into each other with a meaty thunk.

"Give me shells!" the leader's voice demanded from down below as he pulled away Shotgun. Holster, free to begin climbing, did so, reaching down towards his belt as he did so.

Anna's teeth bit down into the chain in her mouth in panic as she saw Holster grab a revolver from his namesake. She had little time to think of a solution, though, as a rung cracked underhoof, sending her falling down a few steps and right onto the face of her pursuer. His gun went off right next to her ear, sending it ringing as he cried out in shock.

Grunting, she resecured her forehooves' grip to the rungs and pulled herself up, giving the man a hearty kick in the face. A kick that got him right in the eye. His gun clattered to the floor below as he clamped his right hand over his eye, his other being used to keep his grip onto the ladder.

Rocketed on by adrenaline, Anna continued to scale until her head finally burst to the top. Huffing and puffing, she hauled the rest of her body out of the hole just as she felt Holster's hand brush through her tail. With no time to lose, Anna scrambled back onto all fours and continued to flee, running out towards the gate and beginning to spread her wings.

An orange explosion filled the air and once again she felt the wind of several projectiles moving past her. Something nicked her flank, leaving behind a band of red hot, searing pain in its wake. Immediately recognizing the foolishness of taking flight, Anna folded her wings and dove down the bank towards the creek, just before another blast filled the air behind her.

Rolling head over flank, she tumbled down into the water with a splash, immediately becoming soaked in chilly, murky water. Bursting from the surface, chain thankfully still clenched in her teeth, she shook her head vigorously to get the water out of her eyes. Something brushed against her, and she stared down into the water to see black, wriggling forms brushing up against her and squirming around her hooves.

She let out a muffled scream around the sides of the watch chain in her mouth, clambering towards the far bank as fast as she could. Once in shallower water, away from the horrid water creatures, she gave a glance over her shoulder up towards the bank, where the three men had arrived. The leader had his shotgun open, pulling out two shells as its barrels smoked. His two cronies began to stumble down the bank towards her.

Mind screaming in panic as he reloaded, she immediately threw her weight into a sprint, this time towards the ruins of the bridge that once crossed the river. Once again, she spread her wings to fly over the obstructions, only for her waterlogged feathers to flap clumsily and uselessly against the air.

Eyes widening, Anna put as much power as she could into her legs and leapt towards a collapsed section of planks, barely clearing it and falling straight onto her face on the other side. Another bang echoed through the forest as a blast of pellets chewed a hole in the planks just behind her. Head down, she continued to sprint down the bank of the creek and into the forest.

Holster and Shotgun began to clamber over the debris as the leader fired off another shot, hitting a tree just as Anna ducked into the bush lining the mine clearing. All three met up and chased down the bank.

The creek continued to run northwards. It began to widen as other streams began to join in, the brush and forest around the sides continuing to close in as Anna ran, the thugs only ever being a few steps behind. The creek had turned into a proper river now, and up ahead her eyes lay upon a small, red brick bridge crossing over it. The railroad! Of course!

Scrambling up the bank and towards the railroad, she dove over the tracks and behind the gravel bed just as another shotgun blast chewed on the stones. Smaller and faster, Anna was hard to hit. But, she couldn't fly, not until her wings air-dried. Now, though, as she once again scrambled to her hooves, her heart was thundering at a frantic pace. Her breathing was hard and fast. Her ears were ringing, not from loud noises, but from exhaustion instead as rings closed around her vision.

There was no option to simply stop, though. She ducked again as another blast hit the gravel bed that she used as cover. Now, though, the thugs had stepped over the railway bed onto her side again. Assumedly, they were reloading their shotgun again, but now they were outpacing her.

Pushing the last of her energy into her legs, she frantically sought a way out as Shotgun began to close the distance behind her. Then, as if in answer to her, up ahead she saw the trees peel away from the left side of the tracks. Part of the dirt embankment built around the rails had fallen away into a slip, leading down towards another river.

She dove for it, flapping her wings for whatever lift they might give her as she tumbled down the slope and, once again, into the water. A pillar of water shot up from the river ahead as a shotgun blast was emptied into it, the three men taking the much less painful and ankle-wrenching way down via the gentler slope, giving Anna just enough time to splash into the river.

She was no swimmer. In the Pacific, she had avoided water by flying. Bedford was not a coastal town either, and neither of the nearby coastal cities had beaches too pleasant to swim in. Thus, she flailed and splashed in the water as she endeavoured towards the other side, mostly just being carried downstream. With a rush of hope, however, she realized the current was going to wash her onto the opposite shore, and she ceased her struggling and stretched her legs underwater, scrambling to find purchase on the bottom.

Her head submerged as she ceased to work to keep herself afloat. Lungs already burning from exhaustion, the amount of time she had underwater couldn't be short enough. When her hooves finally found the silt of the bank and her head finally burst from the water, she gasped greedy lungfuls of air, inhaling a few drops of water from her own emergence and coughing.

Flashlights frantically swept the water behind her, and another shotgun blast tossed a column of water into the air. This time, though, it was nowhere close to her.

With the last of her strength, Anna dragged herself under a fallen branch, draping its still-green leaves over the water. Up to her neck in water, but shielded from sight by the branch, she took wheezing, long gasps of breath. Stars were filling her vision as her body seemingly ran out of adrenaline. Scores of pain ran all across her body, sharp stings mixed in with dull, thudding aches from her legs and barrel.

"DAMNIT!" the leader shouted from somewhere upriver, "Where'd that little bitch run off to?"

"Come on, Roscoe, what if those twerps ran off and called the cops?" Shotgun's voice said.

"We've been shootin' up the forest as well. What if someone up at the camp heard us?" Holster added.

There was a long pause, the lights of the hunter's flashlights sweeping back and forth a few times, piercing the leaves of Anna's hiding spot and lighting her face with star-like specks between the twigs and brush. She stared out towards the three silhouettes on her side of the shore as they slowly scanned the forest and riverbank.

Something brushed against her hoof in the dark, unknown water below her. She held back a yelp as she felt it squirm around, the feeling of slimey, rough scales rubbing against one of her legs as it finally left her.

"...Dangit, you're right. Come on, let's get back to the truck, quick!" the leader growled, turning around.

The flashlights faded, leaving Anna in darkness as the hunters splashed against the riverwater. Lungs already occupied with the arduous task of slowly rejuvenating her stamina, she could not find it within herself to breathe a sigh of relief. Instead, she sluggishly raised a forehoof and grabbed onto the chain in her mouth, raising the prize on the end out of the water.

By the low light of the moon, she could see its features. Safe and sound.

For a moment, the arguing of the treasure hunters, the sounds of the nighttime woods, and all other distractions in general faded away. She stared into her reflection in the golden watch. Bloodied from scratching her face up on gravel and stone, clothes ripped and dirtied, mane tousled about. Despite how much pain she felt, despite how much trouble she was in, despite how exhausted she was... she was victorious.

The world began to glow around her, the pale reflection from the moonlight turning into a more colorful relief as Anna looked around, confused. Suddenly, she realized it was not the world around her that was glowing, but herself. Her coat was covered in sparkles as something surged within her. There was no pain, or great relief from her previous ills, just the mysterious glow.

A glow that put her in bright contrast to the world around her. A flashlight immediately centered on her.

"...Hey! That's her! Holy- get her!" the leader's voice suddenly shouted.

Looking at her glowing forehooves, Anna swore for the very first time, "Fuck."

The glow had faded as quickly as it had appeared. Despite the short time she had rested, her body was in no state to continue fleeing. The tiny spike of adrenaline that tried to renew her was nowhere near the load that had been dumped upon her as soon as she grabbed the watch. She managed to clamber out from under the branch, only to hear a mechanical noise from behind her as the leader levelled his shotgun at her.

"Nowhere to run now, stupid little brat-" he hissed, finger tensing on the trigger.

WHOOT-CRACK! BOOM!

Anna flinched as the shotgun went off. The shot went completely wide as the shotgun was sent barreling end over end into the bushes by the river, propelled by an unseen force.

The force, however, did not remain unseen for long. A figure advanced from out of the bushes, slowly coiling back up his whip. A flashlight was raised towards him, revealing a leather jacket, fedora, and a stubble-covered, clenched jaw. Indiana Jones stared at the three men with a fire in his eyes that Anna had never once seen in her entire life. It was enough to freeze the men in place.

"...Garth!?" the lead man suddenly said.

"Wrong, kid," Indiana muttered.

"Wait... that hat... he gave it to..." the leader's eyes suddenly widened.

A fist blasted forward, smashing right across his jaw. The leader's head was wrenched to the side, blood pooling immediately around his teeth as he stared blankly, slack-jawed. His knees wobbled before he fell straight to the ground, limp.

The other two men came at Indiana. One drew a knife from his belt while the other picked up a nearby tree branch. Indiana deftly stepped back as the knife swung for his throat, catching its handle on the back-swing. With a single tense of his arm, the knife-wielding man (who was Shotgun) screamed in pain as his wrist popped and the knife clattered to the floor. Indiana threw him to the side as he grabbed the incoming swing from the branch-wielding man with both hands.

The branch-man went to kick Indy, but went wide as Indiana side-stepped and threw his weight into the branch, forcing it back to hit its owner in the face. The branch fell to the ground as its wielder stumbled, momentarily stunned. Indiana took full advantage, grabbing his collar and thundering three consecutive right-hooks into his nose. Nose bleeding profusely and the same distant look in branch-man's eyes as his leader's, he limply fell back into the bushes behind him.

Shotgun, gripping his wrist and looking up from shore, looked up to Indiana with a terrified face. In the moment of hesitation he had, Indiana simply reached into his holster and brought out his revolver. Aiming it casually down at him, he pulled back the hammer and said, "How do we feel about helping me tie your friends up and waiting for the police?"

Shotgun gulped, nodding rapidly as he stared directly down the barrel of the gun.

Anna and Indiana sat side by side in the car, in complete silence as they followed the police car down the gravel road, back towards Bedford. Behind theirs were the cars of the Morrisons, McAllister's, and Shepherd's as they drove their kids to town as well. All had been safe and sound. Tommy had arrived to camp to find the place already aroused and searching for them, the camp having been Indiana's first stop before heading out into the woods towards the sounds of gunshots. Once the counsellors reached the abandoned mine, Jeremy and Bob successfully called them to one of the shafts to fish them out, after having run away and hidden from the hunters.

They weren't heading home, though. None of them were. They were heading towards the Bedford Police Station, to answer a few questions. Indiana assured Anna they weren't going to prison, but instructed her strictly not to answer their questions until he said so.

Anna slumped into her seat like a crumbling piece of moist toast, too exhausted to do anything but try to relieve the strain on her lungs and in too much pain to get truly comfortable. One of the counsellors had applied a bandage to the scrape where a piece of buckshot had nicked her. She still felt as if the cut ran a bit farther up her flank and was still bleeding - they hadn't bothered to take off her pants to apply aid. Still, she was too embarrassed to bring it up to her father as she stared out over the windshield at the police car ahead.

Indiana suddenly reached back from the gearshift towards the small basket placed between the seats. From it, he fished out the gold pocket-watch, grabbed from the muddy riverside where Anna had dropped it after the three hunters had been dealt with.

"Anna. You risked your life for this?" He said, voice unnaturally cold as he gripped its chain, letting it pendulum back and forth.

"It belongs in a museum..." Anna mumbled quietly.

"What?" Indy asked, voice rising in what seemed to be honest confusion.

"It belongs in a museum," Anna said, enunciating a bit more clearly, drawing the towel she had been given to dry herself with a bit closer.

"Anna, this..." Indiana gave a side-glance away from the road towards it, "This is- you... why'd you risk your life for this?"

"Cause it's what you would do," Anna muttered. She herself knew that it had been dumb. Risking life and limb for a shiny relic was obviously an adult thing to do, not something for a child to do.

She was not met with scolding, however. Instead, Indiana was dead silent for a moment, staring out to the road, face twisted with an almost dumbfounded expression of confusion. Eventually, he gave a soft chuckle, "Anna... that thing can't be more than forty years old... it's maybe a collector's item, not something that goes in a museum."

While Anna's ears had gone limp atop her head already, that statement made them actively flatten themselves against her skull. She lowered her head as a thick, red flush crossed her cheeks, "Sorry..."

Indiana, however, didn't raise his voice. Instead, he softly, simply asked, "You knew that was a very naughty thing to do, Anna. Not only did you run away, but you put yourself and your friends in danger."

"I know that now, sorry..." Anna repeated, looking away as tears began to fill her eyes.

"Will you do it again?" Indiana asked.

"No..." Anna automatically answered.

After a moment, Indiana eventually said, "I believe you."

Anna's eyes widened in shock, and she gave a glance up towards her father.

"The fact that those guys were willing to kill innocent children over a dusty old watch means that it's probably good that they're going to go behind bars," Indiana muttered, "You've got heart, kid."

Anna blinked as Indiana took his eyes off the road for a moment and gave him an earnest, warm smile. For a moment, she beamed back up at him.

Indiana's expression lingered but for just one moment, before he dropped the watch and placed his hand back on the gearshift, "You can say goodbye to ice cream for the rest of the summer. If you do that again, Anna, I'll kill you myself. Got that?"

Anna sighed, smile immediately falling into a bitter frown as she huddled back in on herself, "Got it..."

The same man who had sat with Indiana and her in the Supreme Court sat with her in an uncomfortable, bland room as a policeman asked her questions. He asked the same questions in multiple different ways, asked her to recount events over and over again until she felt like her head was going to explode. Randomly, the lawyer would stop her from talking, while for some reason other times he would shout at the policeman - who only seemed like he was trying to be nice.

Eventually, though, they were let out. Despite the fact that Anna was falling asleep on her hooves and indeed snoozed the entire drive back to their house despite it being the middle of the day, she still needed to change out of her tattered clothes and take a shower before going to bed.

With a sigh, she turned on the shower's hot water faucet and began to strip down. A special hygiene kit, devised by Uncle Johan, sat by the sink with brushes for her coat and hair. She grabbed them both as she stepped into the shower and allowed the warm water to soothe her bumps and scratches.

Something green caught her eye when looking down towards her flank. She ran her brush across it, but it still remained there. She scrubbed the area vigorously with soap, but the mark, looking an awful lot like the compass rose from a map, refused to budge. Her eyes bugged out as she realized it was far too detailed and precise to be a smudge of dirt. Apparently, at some point, she had decided to go on and do the most rebellious thing any good, civilized girl could go and do:

She'd gotten a tattoo!

Anna's screams filled the house soon afterwards.

Author's Note

The boring setup part of the story is officially done

We are so back

20: Richard, 1930

LOSS in stock collapse 10 BILLION

October 29, 1929

RUNS on BANKS! Depositors DEMAND CASH as experts urge AGAINST PANIC

December 20th, 1929

LAYOFFS! Harvard GRADS join BREAD LINES on the streets of NEW YORK

February 5th, 1930

DEPRESSION hits UK! UNEMPLOYED march in PUBLIC PROTESTS.

March 18th, 1930

Western Union Telegraph Company
BOAT REPOSSESSED - CURRENTLY HOMELESS - NEED HELP - RICHARD

Western Union Telegraph Company
WIRING MONEY NOW - GET TICKET - COME TO BEDFORD - STAY WITH US - INDIANA

Richard looked up at the almost sickeningly picturesque home standing before him. Its red brick foundation, white boards, and black shingles all seemed fresh and new. The hedges and grass weren't the best trimmed, but there were curtains in the windows, an oak tree in the back yard, and plenty of friendly neighbors with their welcome mats out in front of their doors.

His head dipped slightly as the sound of a car door being closed came from behind him. Indiana stepped out, still in his neat college suit. Fortunately, the other man was kind enough to grab Richard's suitcase - carrying all of his worldly possessions - from the trunk before he could turn around to do it himself.

"Home sweet home," Indiana said with a grunt, hefting the suitcase, "We did up the guest room, just for you."

"Thanks," Richard said, trying his best to put on a smile as he followed the other man up the stairs and into the house.

Just after setting foot through the front, Richard spied a familiar face through the window of a side door. Anna sat at a table, across from the single whitest man Richard had ever seen, who gave him a curious glance. Anna, for her part, perked up immediately, looked towards the man for a nod of approval, before shooting off her seat to run towards him.

The first honest sense of joy came over Richard as he crouched down and opened his arms. Anna jumped into a hug, nuzzling her muzzle against his neck before breaking off and saying, "Hey Uncle Rich!"

"Hi Anna, how're you doing?" he asked, standing back up.

Indiana gave the two of them a small smile before proceeding up the stairs with the luggage, leaving the two of them alone. The ghostly man at the table opened a book and looked down into it, squinting his eyes slightly and otherwise remaining silent.

"Been pretty good. Just doing my Civics course with Mr Sanders!" Anna said, rocking back and forth on her hooves a bit, "Oh and yesterday I helped do up the guest room for you! How long are you gonna stay with us, Uncle Rich?"

"Just for a little while," Richard said, hoping to believe himself, "That your private tutor over there?" he asked, pointing towards the man at the table.

"Yep! That's Mr Phillip Sanders! He's originally from Oxford, but he came over here to be with his wife!" Anna chirped, looking over her shoulder towards him. His eyes remained down at his books, "He's cold as ice on the surface but he's a real swell guy when you talk to him more."

"I bet," Richard nodded, before taking a step towards the stairs, "I want to see this room you all have laid out for me."

There was a fully equipped bathroom at the end of the hall, a hall closet full of worn-but-comfortable linens, a study, two used bedrooms, and one guest bedroom. A Queen-sized bed was placed underneath a window, facing out towards the right side of the house. Indiana waited for them, leaning up against a wall next to Richard's suitcase. A dresser with a mirror sat in a corner, a closet was sat open in another, and the floor was carpeted in green. Several cards sat on the dresser, which Anna immediately ran over next to.

"Are those my cards?" Richard asked, walking over to Anna and peering at the artwork on display. They were, indeed, the hand-made cards he'd sent to her for every single birthday since she was 4.

"Yep! I kept each and every one!" Anna puffed out her chest proudly.

"She's always loved your art, Rich," Indiana commented, pushing off from the wall and strolling across the room, "I'll go and prepare dinner while you make yourself at home. Anna, you'd better get back to school."

"Right," Anna said, trotting her way past Indiana and through the door.

Richard, now alone in the guest room, took the card he'd made all the way back in 1924. Turning it over in his hands, a small tear came to his eye as he brushed a thumb over the stiff, watercolor-coated cardboard.

Richard was almost entirely sure he had been fed better slop while on rationing aboard the Safe Travels. He tried not to wear his emotions on his sleeve as he looked down into what he believed was an attempt at a vegetable stew. The components of the stew were too hard and obviously undercooked. There was an almost tongue-wringing amount of salt mixed in with the broth and for some ungodly reason it seemed the pepper had been directly applied to the vegetables while the salt had not been. The only forgivable part of the meal was the garlic bread, which he was fairly certain had been purchased from a bakery.

Sure, the logical part of his brain told him to be thankful he wasn't on a breadline. However, the emotional part of it bemoaned the waste of entirely good, fresh, and supple ingredients in such a travesty of a simple dish.

"So what happened to your boat, Uncle Rich?" Anna asked, somehow entirely unphased by the state of her food despite being a ten year old who, by all rights, should still be flipping bowls at the slightest taste of spice.

Richard was glad for the excuse not to take another spoonful. Lowering his spoon back into the soup bowl, he said, "The bank lended me money to pay for something in return for me promising that if I couldn't pay them back, they could take the boat. I couldn't pay."

"Was that because of the crash, Dad?" Anna asked, chewing on some of her bread and giving a side-glance towards her father, who was somehow happily eating his barely-cooked pepperballs-in-water.

Indiana paused, looking between the other two at his table for a moment, before eventually nodding, "Yeah. It was."

"My friend Bob says that his dad's bank had to go and get a bunch of money from a bunch of people, because they didn't have enough money to pay all the people who wanted to get cash from the bank," Anna scrunched up her muzzle, "Mr Sanders gave me a really long explanation that I didn't really get."

"Well the bank gives money to a bunch of people, right?" Richard said.

Anna nodded.

Continuing, he explained, "They get that money that they give to people because people give them money to keep it safe. So say that your Dad gave a bank fifty dollars to put in his account. And then your neighbor also gives that bank fifty dollars. That bank then loans me fifty dollars.

"If then your dad wanted to take his fifty dollars back, the bank could still do that for him. But if your neighbor also wanted to take the money back at the same time, and I hadn't given the bank all its money back, the bank doesn't have any money."

"So then they have to go after Richard to get their money back, or else they're in big trouble," Indiana muttered, taking a crunchy bite out of a piece of broccoli suspended in his quickly cooling broth.

"Huh, okay..." Anna looked down, then started to frown, "Didn't you say we also borrowed money from the bank, Dad?"

Indiana's lips drew into a line. Richard and him shared a glance across the table, before his gaze slowly panned back towards Anna, "We did."

"Is the bank going to come for the house like they did for his boat?" Anna asked, ears lowering.

That question struck a cold silence in the dining room. Indiana's hand paused, spoon still lowered into the soup as he broke eye contact, staring blankly down at the cloth coating the table. Eventually, though, he shook his head, "The bank still has to follow the law. The law says that if I keep working and giving the bank money like I have been before, they can't come and take anything from us."

Richard spoke up, trying his best to calm Anna as she gave an uncertain look down into her stew, "Anna, your father works as a professor. Because he's real smart, they pay him twice as much as I would get on a good day. You'll be fine, okay?"

Anna didn't look completely convinced, especially as silence descended onto the table again. In all truth, the adults at the table knew she was right to be worried. It was only a matter of time until the layoffs hit academia. With Indiana still being a junior at Marshall, he dreaded every piece of correspondence from the board and sweated through every review before his seniors.

Indiana, fortunately, changed the subject before the atmosphere could become abysmal, "Speaking of work, Rich. I might have some work for you, while you're getting on your feet."

"Mhm?" Rich asked, tearing off a strip of garlic bread to eat.

"The tutor usually takes care of Anna during the day. Summer break's about to come though, and usually that time I'd hire a sitter while I'm working. I figure if you could keep an eye on her while I'm at work, I'd just pay you rather than her."

"How much are you going to charge for room and board?" Richard asked, voice completely honest in its curiosity.

"Nothing," Indiana shrugged, "You're staying here as my friend, and if you do work to keep Anna safe then you deserve to be paid normally for that as well."

Richard's job search for quick and easy employment around Bedford was not the most fruitful. The town, being a college town, had little in the way of working-class jobs for African-Americans in the best of times. Now was not the best of times. The town center had more closed storefronts than street sweepers and anything at Marshall College was way too far out of his league.

Fortunately, though, he considered himself blessed that despite being back at square one once again, after building and saving for so long after getting out of prison. For one, the local church was tolerant of his presence. Second was, of course, Indiana's kindness in allowing him to stay for as long as he wanted until he could get back onto his feet. Third was the fact that, due to the previously mentioned kindness, he didn't need to submit himself to bottom-of-the-barrel work at a mill or factory for less than minimum wage. Now that it was Summer, he could spend time with Anna, slowly collect enough cash to buy some respectable clothes, and look for a more permanent position.

The biggest thing he needed to do before he could achieve that, though, was feed his adoptive niece a real dinner.

Anna sat on a nearby table, writing something in a big, leather-bound journal that she had been gifted as Richard stood in front of the pantry. Opening it, he clucked his tongue, looking back and forth across the shelves, "It confounds me sometimes why your father buys fresh vegetables."

"Why's that weird?" Anna asked, mumbling as she continued to scratch away at the paper with her pen.

"No disrespect to Indy, but he is a culinary trainwreck," Richard sighed, shaking his head before grabbing an onion, two carrots, potatoes, and celery and placing it on the counter, "If he got a position as a cook, there'd be a mutiny the next day."

"Huh?" Anna finally looked up from her book, tilting her head.

Richard dropped it, deciding not to elaborate as he instead raised a hand and gestured her over with the beckon of a finger, "Come here," he said as he opened a drawer and grabbed a knife, "If you learn a bit of cooking, maybe you can eventually take of for your father. I doubt you could do worse than him."

Anna hovered placidly over his shoulder and watched as he diced the onion, peeled and cut the carrots and potatoes, and diced the celery. At the very back of the pantry, nestled right next to a spider's web, Richard found a golden prize of a can of vegetable broth. After swatting Anna's hoof away from grabbing the temporarily unattended kitchen knife, Richard hoisted a pot onto the stove and started the burner underneath it. Butter was soon added, beginning to sizzle very softly.

Letting the pot heat and mincing some garlic, Richard placed it and the garlic on a plate and dumped it into the pan, explaining, "This is what they call sauté."

"That sounds French!" Anna said, nodding her head sagely.

"Probably is. French people invented cooking, you know?" Richard said, using a barely-used spatula to even out the aromatics on the pan, "The vegetables burn really quickly, so you have to be careful and just cook them until brown."

"What're you gonna do with the rest of the stuff?" Anna asked, sniffing a few times as the garlic and onion released their aromas.

"I'll cook them too. It's important to layer the flavors," Richard recommended, taking the plate of the other vegetables and dumping them in soon afterwards, "This way the sharp flavors of the onion and garlic intermingle with the more mute ones evenly."

Anna flew to one of the upper cabinets, grabbing the salt and pepper, "You need these right?"

"Not until we're ready to flavor," Richard said, continuing to gently even out the vegetables while is other hand went for a can opener.

"Dad just puts them in first," Anna said, looking down at the two shakers in her hooves.

"Well your father doesn't know everything," Richard shot back, "He's what my old French bunkmate would call: les incompetent."

Anna raised an eyebrow, "Hey! I thought you said he was smart."

"Smart people are often pretty dumb in certain areas, your father happens to be a bit lacking in terms of cooking," Richard said confidently, taking the shakers from Anna and giving her the opened can, "Pour this in."

Uncertain, but silent, Anna did as she was told. Richard gave her a spoon as he increased the heat on the burner. She was told to gently stir, all while he prepared a few herbs to sprinkle in. They were added in, and after the pot boiled the heat was decreased to reduce the stew to a simmer.

"You can make this yourself, you know?" Richard said, before pausing and eventually adding, "Except for the part where you cut the vegetables. You need to practice before you do that part."

Anna tilted her head, "Mr Sanders said that girls usually get taught how to cook, but Dad said I was to be taught like I was a boy."

"Nothing wrong with learning how to cook. I'm not a woman, but I can probably cook better than most," Richard said, reaching up to scratch the side of his head. His fingers met a short fuzz of hair, indicating to himself that he needed to shave it again.

"Did you get taught how to cook in school?" Anna asked, skimming a bit of the froth from the top of the stew with her spoon, as she had been instructed to.

"No. I learned how to cook because it was the only way I could get out of the boiler room on my old steamship," Richard sighed.

"Most of my friends go to the primary school down the opposite side of town from my dad's university," Anna explained, nostrils flaring as she took another whiff of the increasingly appetizing-looking stew, "Dad says I can't go because the kids will bully me. He says bullying is when you pick on people, beat them up and make fun of them because they're different or something."

"He's probably right," Richard said, pulling over a bar stool and sitting down with a sigh, "We'll let that stew simmer for about thirty minutes, or until the veggies are soft, then we'll season it."

"What was school like?" Anna asked, eventually coming to sit on the counter next to the pot.

"It was okay," Richard shrugged, "Don't remember much about it though. I had to get pulled out around seven."

"Why's that?" Anna asked, focusing still on stirring the pot - perhaps too aggressively, but Richard didn't feel the need to correct her about a relatively small mistake in the process.

"The school was new where we lived," he explained, "There used to only be a white school. As soon as the black school opened up, my mom dressed me up and sent me there to learn how to read and count. A year later, though, some people called the Klan came and set fire to the school while we were all inside. The police just watched, and they would've burned the whole thing down if the fire brigade didn't come and blast them with water. Bless their souls. After that, mom pulled me out of school and taught me everything she knew at home."

Anna tilted her head, "Why'd they do that? The people who set fire to the school?"

There was a pause as Richard considered his next words, before he simply said: "They just don't like blacks, plain as that."

"I think that's pretty dumb," Anna surmised, looking back down into the pot and stirring a few more times, "Maybe they need to read some more books and go to more schools, rather than burning them down."

"A lot of things about this world would be better if people read more books," Richard said, leaning onto the counter and looking over to the notebook still lying on the nearby table, "Speaking of, what're you writing? I thought you were on holidays."

"I was writing that for fun," Anna said, hovering over to the notebook and opening it. The well worn pages, soaked with ink, were filled with unsteady but legible handwriting (or should it be hoof-writing?). She held it out for him to read, saying, "Last year, Mr Sanders told me to write a short story, so I wrote about how Dad went and found out that the world was hollow on the inside and fought wizards. Now I'm writing about the time I went and found a dead guy in a mine!"

Richard hummed in curiosity, taking the book from her. Despite not being of any particular amount of education, Rich could tell the writing was fairly juvenile, messy, and ambiguously worded. Still, likely due to Anna's superior levels of education, it was better than anything he could write if he put his mind to it.

He was more of a painted art and poems man, anyway.

"Let me get you the completed one I wrote last year," Anna said, taking the book back and closing it, before zipping back up the stairs.

While he waited, he lowered the heat on the burner again. The vegetables were soft, now it was just to keep it warm for the rest of the time they were waiting for dinner. Eventually, the fluttering of wings turned him back around, and he was presented with a tattered, paperback notebook with a crude title scrawled on the front:

Indiana Jones and the Interior World

"Nice title," Richard said, taking the book and humming, "Makes him sound like some regular action hero."

"That's cause that's exactly what he is," Anna insisted, placing her forehooves on her hips as she continued to hover.

Richard looked over the cover, before giving a glance back up to Anna, "You know, every good book needs a good piece of cover art."

Indiana Jones later arrived, nearly dead on his feet, to his home an hour later. Walking through the front door, he was met with an aroma that he hadn't quite smelled since his childhood, coming home to his mother's cooking. His daughter and her sitter were already at the table, eating their stew while Richard painted something on a canvas.

Indiana's portion was already served, sitting at the head of the table, and rapidly cooking. Almost as soon as Indiana could kick off his boots, he had sat down and dug in.

Eventually, Richard turned his small canvas around, showing Indiana his work. It was a vague sketch of Easter Island, with tribal warriors armed with spears in the foreground, the starting vague sketch of what seemed to be Indy's own face, and a bold, illustrated title scrolling across the top. The text, a gradient of orange at the top to yellow at the bottom, read "INDIANA JONES and the INTERIOR WORLD".

Anna seemed to be delighted for it, and Indiana was more than happy to pose for a reference later for Richard to fill in his face.

"You should get it printed," Richard said, "Just one copy. That notebook will deteriorate very quickly, and it'd be a shame for it to go to waste."

"I dunno, maybe once we have some spare money," Indiana murmured, hungrily downing another spoonful of the stew before giving a slow, calculating look over to the other man, "Rich... how much do I have to pay you to get you to cook every night?"

Richard didn't take his eyes off the canvas, but gave a hearty laugh instead, "Just give me money so I can get the right ingredients, Indy. Not having to suffer through your cooking is payment enough."

Anna snorted, then started to giggle furiously. Eventually, Indiana gave an exhale through his nose and smiled, nodding in surrender.

Richard continued to touch up his work late into the night, even after Anna had gone to sleep and Indiana had retired to his study to complete his quota of paperwork. Eventually, after completing just enough work to not feel guilty about procrastinating, Indiana walked down the stairs to the living room. There, Richard sat on the couch, delicately working on his canvas as it sat, propped up by a makeshift easel of books and other random trinkets sitting on top of the coffee table.

Indiana gave a quick glance towards the clock, spying the time as around a quarter-past-ten. Rubbing an eye, he made his way across the dining room and into the living room to take a seat across from his old friend.

"How's work?" he asked, brush quietly tapping against the canvas.

Indiana sighed, "They have me working on an extra class over the summer. They fired the guy who used to teach it - veteran of eight years at the head of that course. They don't even pay me any better, but I can't afford to complain."

"Not a time when you can afford to be picky about work," Richard muttered, before clicking his tongue and shaking his head, pulling his brush away from his canvas as he examined what seemed to be a mistake in his craft.

"I'm sorry about your boat, Rich," Indiana offered, leaning forward in the armchair with the slight squeak of its springs.

"I was finally at the top, Indy," Richard said, dipping his brush in water and slumping into the couch, "I was the skipper. Nobody could tell me what to do when I was out there on the water. I was making an honest living..." he shook his head, "Sometimes I wonder why God lets these things happen."

"I'm afraid I'm a man of science, not a man of the cloth," Indiana said.

"Ah, what would you know, anyway," Richard grumbled, "You've got it down, Indy. A good job, raising a brilliant young girl, have your own house... I'm just a poor, rotten man drifting aimlessly through the doldrum."

Indiana got up, straightening out his shirt, "I used to be pretty unhappy, you know. When I met you, I was fresh from the War, no family, working dead end at a restaurant for ten hours a day in a single bedroom apartment. Things'll get better, Rich, I'm sure," a pause, as Indiana half-turned back towards the double doors leading to the dining room, "Want cocoa?"

"Sure," Richard sighed, before adding, "Sorry for sounding bitter, it's just... it's a lot."

Indiana simply waved a hand of dismissal before walking to the kitchen to put a kettle on.

Woolley Hall, the main site of Marshall College's extensive anthropology and archaeological facilities, had long been awaiting the opening of a new extension. A small museum, replacing some of the old and outdated lecture halls that were being moved elsewhere. Significant investments from the National Museum, and charitable donations from famous names like the Donovans had slowly overhauled the old building, patching the leaks in its roof and its subsiding foundation, and rebuilding much of the architecture in the style of its original design.

The opulent and fantastic, though small-scale, museum and new archaeology lab had been set to open its doors in the new year. The date had been pushed back several months as the economy rapidly grew uncertain and administration began to reshuffle itself. Yet, despite all the difficulties, the new expansions to Woolley Hall opened to fanfare and visits from all of its various benefactors.

A full month after its opening, Marcus Brody, the National Museum's representative at Marshall and the curator of Woolley Hall toured through its exhibits. Walking side by side with him was Indiana Jones, using the mere thirty minutes he had between lectures to take his first look at one of the displays.

"Well, here it is, your first displayed work..." Marcus said, holding out a hand towards one of the glass cases. Inside, a restored piece of pottery lay. One of the pieces Indiana had retrieved on his fieldwork, "Astro expedition, yes?"

"Jastro," Indiana corrected, "It's nothing compared to some of the other pieces we got, Marcus."

"Yes. Stolen and sold off..." Marcus creased his forehead, "Did you ever manage to figure out by who?"

"I have my suspicions, just no evidence," Indiana shrugged, "I think it was one of my students, Sophia Hapgood, who did it."

"Ah well, not much you could've done about it, Indy," Marcus sighed, reaching out and tracing a finger on the glass. Several smudges and thumbprints had been left on the pane, leading him to mutter to himself, "We must rope these off so the students stop smearing their hands on the glass."

Indiana creased his forehead, looking around. With just one sweep of his eyes, he spied discarded cigarettes, smears of mud and dirt piling up under the seats. Humming, he said, "Custodians are slacking. Only a month into operation and this place is looking run down."

"Custodian, singular," Marcus shook his head, "I'm afraid with how shaky the opening of Woolley has been, there was only room in the budget for minimal staff," he followed Indiana's eye, kicking a discarded cigarette with a shoe, "With things going how they are, though, we're losing more money than we're saving by turning all our patrons away with the mess."

"Seems pretty simple. Just hire another cleaner," Indiana said, mind wandering to his next classes as he rubbed his chin and began to wander.

"If the board had their way, they would just have me add some more overtime onto my current staff," Marcus scoffed, "Crack the whip, as some might say. Bollocks. You're right, though, I should put out an ad in the paper for someone to work the nightshift. Surely we'll get applicants lining up after a single circulation, in this economy..."

Indiana paused his wandering, turning around, "Hey, actually... do you mind if I give a recommendation for you to interview first?"

"...And then add the white sauce evenly across it, like you're painting the sheet," Richard instructed calmly, watching as Anna copied his movements on the pasta base. The spoon, coated in the cheesy, creamy sauce they had just finished whipping up, moved back and forth as it slowly evened out the first layer of their pasta.

Ever since Richard had gotten the ability to search out and buy his own ingredients, he had gotten the opportunity to tutor Anna on more and more complicated meals. Slowly, Anna herself had realized just how much she had been missing out in terms of food. She assumed that it took a lot more to make a good meal, which was why they charged so much for good food at restaurants.

Indiana, while initially having blushed a lot at his own skills being made into a bit of a joke, had eventually leaned into the idea. It definitely helped that the quality of dinnertimes had skyrocketed ever since Richard had taken over the cooking. If he could've had the money to spare, Rich suspected Indy would've just hired him on as a full-time caterer.

"When I go, you gotta know how to make this yourself," Richard said, guiding her hooves as she layered on the savories for the central parts of the lasagna, "Or else you're going to have to go back to contending with your father's cooking."

"Will we still be seeing each other, Uncle Rich?" Anna asked, taking another sheet of pasta and layering it on top for the final part of the dish.

"I'll be living by the church," Richard muttered, "They don't got a pastor, so they're renting out the parish at the back."

"It was real swell having you, Uncle Richard," Anna said, placing the cheese on top and keeping her eyes down on her work as she hovered next to the preparation area, "If it means anything, I hope you get your boat back someday."

"You know..." Richard began, pausing before eventually saying, "I'm starting to think maybe I don't need a boat to be happy."

"Well yeah, but I still hope you get your boat back," Anna rolled her eyes, as if it was obvious.

The front door squeaked open, Indiana stepping through it. It was Saturday, so as usual he was a few hours early back from the university. He approached the kitchen, taking a whiff of the raw pasta as it was inserted into the oven, holding something behind his back. Anna, to preoccupied with guiding the glass dish into the oven, only offered a "hi" as she did so.

"Did your friend come back about that job?" Richard asked, leaning back on the counter and eying the object held behind Indiana's back.

"You got it, of course," Indiana chuckled, "Not exactly a very competitive job in terms of required skillsets."

"Thanks Indy, for everything," Richard said, giving a smile.

Anna looked between the two of them, mirroring his smile as she closed the oven door and folded her forelegs. Eventually, though, her eyes were magnetized towards the secret item her father was keeping from her. Coyly, Indiana swayed back and forth a few times before eventually revealing the item.

"Your demo copy came back from New Haven today," Indiana said, holding out a crisp, new hardcover copy of a book. On the front was a copy of Richard's original cover art design, and inside was the story of Indiana Jones and the Interior World, preserved forever.

Author's Note

the next four chapters will each cover one of Anna's important people as we wrap up the final stages of her development before Temple of Doom finally kicks off!

I want to say, while Doom isn't my favorite original trilogy entry, I'm actually very very proud of what I've done with it.

Also, i might trade Fate of Atlantis's slot with Great Circle's. If I included both, I think they would crowd each other out for character development time and such.

21: Johan, 1931

A measuring tape unfurled. A pen scratched against a notebook. A small needle pricked against the frog of an hoof, held out willingly. A small clipping of tail and mane samples were taken. Samples were lined up neatly in a box and sealed away for further monitoring. Rubber slapped against skin as gloves were pulled taught, fingers flexing as they made their way across the body, feeling for lumps and irregularities.

Johan Richter's forehead creased very slightly as his hands made their way rearward, and he formed his lips into a thin line as he completed the second-to-final phase of his inspection. After noting down a thing or two, he removed his gloves before taking out a paper and laying it against Anna's naked, right flank.

"Hmmm..." he muttered, taking out a pen and squinting. Through the thin paper, he could see the edges of the mark that had spontaneously formed on her flank. A circle had been drawn on the paper, marking its outer edges, "Very slight growth of the mark since last time, but it's still within the size that you have grown overall between our visits."

"Is that good?" Anna asked, looking back over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

"It may just mean that such a mark is natural to your species," Johan shrugged, stepping back and gathering his medical tools, "Still no sensitivity, pain, or anything else in the area?"

"No," she muttered, walking over to where her clothes had been stripped off.

Johan spared a look over his shoulder to Indiana, who watched with casual curiosity. The other man just shrugged as well.

"Then it's nothing to be worried about," Johan smiled, throwing his surgical gloves into his briefcase, "You are otherwise keeping your adipose tissue down, your musculature is healthy, and you are growing at an impressive rate."

"How tall do you think she'll end up being?" Indiana asked, pushing off of the wall and walking over towards the window, opening the curtains to let the sun back into the lounge.

"Well, it's speculation since all we have to go on for bone extension and hardening are the X-rays..." Johan said, zipping up his doctor's bag and hoisting it up to rest it on the coffee table, "But perhaps about three feet and some change? About to hip height."

Anna squinted, raising a hoof above her head and making it level with Johan's hip. Looking up at the height, she nodded to herself and began to walk towards the doors leading towards the dining room.

"Where're you going?" Indiana asked.

Looking back, likely thinking she had been caught in something, she nervously said, "The Morrisons?"

"Have fun!" Indiana wished, walking over and slumping into an armchair.

Johan gave a polite wave towards her as she bounded out of the living room and towards the front door. He too sat in an armchair, across from Indiana.

:The mark on her flank appears to simply just be growing with the rest of her body," Johan began, going through their regular debrief that they had after the conclusion of every checkup, "The shavings I took of one side have simply grown straight back."

"Even the hide underneath was colored?" Indiana asked, reaching up to scratch his jaw.

"Yes, very fascinating..." Johan muttered. Usually, the shaved hide of a furred animal would be pinkish-white, as its appearance would usually be completely shielded from sight by the hairs covering it. This was the state of Anna's usual hide... in every place except the two, identical pictures on her flank.

"Otherwise? Everything else is normal?" Indiana said, a hint of boredom coming into his voice as his eyes wandered.

"Even by a measure against a horse, who by no means gets a deficiency of physical activity, she is fit and strong. Firm musculature, powerful wings," Johan listed off, reaching into a pocket to pull out his notepad to review his various observations.

"Well if she were a horse, she'd be an adult by now. About halfway through her life expectancy," said Indiana, still looking away as his mind obviously wandered.

"Well, speaking of adults..." Johan cracked a slight smile, "If she were a human, do you know what phase of life she might be reaching?"

"Uhhh," Indiana hummed, tapping a finger against the arm of his chair. He thought back to what he was doing at the age of eleven. Meeting Leo Tolstoy, Harry Houdini, Pablo Picasso... "I mean, I dunno Johan, when I was eleven I was still kicking around with my dad in the lecture tour."

Johan paused, eventually narrowing his eyes and lifting a finger towards him as he said, "And a year or so later, you would notice hair growing where it wasn't before?"

"I was more busy noticing my mother dying," Indiana snarked darkly, before eventually ceding the point, "But yeah I suppose so."

"Well in girls it usually starts a year earlier," Johan said, tilting his head forward and raising his eyebrows, "I have noticed the basic signs cropping up over my last several inspections. Anna is becoming an adult of her species."

Indiana's face morphed between phases of confusion, then to realization, then to an almost look of... terror as he raised a hand to his cheek and brushed a thumb across his jaw, "Oh," was all he could say.

"It's nothing to be afraid of, Indy. It's just a natural part of growing up," Johan chuckled, cracking a smile at the other man's distress, "As long as she doesn't start weaving a cocoon or something like that, I am expecting the process will be the same as many other mammalian species, including ourselves."

Indiana stuttered a bit, "U-Uh, well- the thing is, Doc, cause of my mother's passing and all... uh, they might've never gotten a chance to tell me about how it is... for girls."

Giving a sympathetic nod, Johan rolled his shoulders slightly as he leaned forward, "Well, Indy, I can recommend some medical products for you to buy, some things to look out for, and perhaps a book or two you can read," Johan said, "But just... in general, for both boys and girls this is a time where they will be experiencing a lot of new things. They will need greater amounts of attention. Dare I say, it is likely your relationship with her in general will change."

The first thought to cross Indiana's mind was the abyssal drop in opinion between him and his father when he entered his teenage years. Granted, there had been more factors than just puberty, but still... he let out a nervous breath.

Johan paused, opening and shutting his mouth a few times before eventually finding the courage to speak, "Indy, I am afraid I will have to also bring you some bad news."

"Great, as if all of this wasn't enough already," Indiana rubbed an eye.

"Are you aware of the German economic situation, right now?" Johan asked, voice lowering.

Indiana shrugged, "I don't pay much attention to international news."

"The war debts from Versailles have been dire for my fatherland ever since the close of the Great War," Johan admitted, clasping his hands in front of himself, eyes lowering down towards the carpet below, "The United States has been keeping German industry afloat with loans, but the crash has caused lenders to recall all their money. If you think the unemployment and the bank runs are bad here, you should try and see how it is going over there," Johan gave a dry chuckle, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," Indiana muttered, voice also low.

"It's the politicians, Indiana. Britain and France, seeking to avenge themselves upon Germany," Johan waved a hand in weak dismissal, "The Weimar Republic is in a state of political failure. People are desperate."

"I assume this is more than just you telling me about world politics, though?" Indiana asked softly.

"My family is in Germany, still," Johan said, raising his head and meeting Indiana's gaze, "We have never been very rich, Indy. I was lucky to have met men like Brody, to get me through education and go to America. I have been very lucky to find you and Anna. I do my work with her for science, but studying the second discovered form of intelligent life has netted me much fame in scientific circles...

"Indy, it's time for me to return home," Johan eventually intoned, reaching up to rub a watering eye, "Visits are no longer enough. I am going to immigrate back to my home country and stay there for the foreseeable future, keep my family off the streets and use the wealth I have collected to shield them from the worst. I've already been offered a position in Berlin."

"Yeah, fair enough," Indiana nodded soberly, "I wish there was more I could do to help."

"You can continue inspections of Anna's health yourself," Johan sighed, voice shaking slightly as he reached into his briefcase and withdrew a binder, "I have written step-by-step instructions on how to perform medical inspections on her. You can send the reports to me or my colleagues in Princeton. I will also spend more time in Bedford this year, working with the local general practitioner. I will make sure he is equipped to advise and deal with any medical emergencies."

"When do you move out?" Indiana asked.

"August," Johan's lips formed a thin line, "If it's not too much to ask, I would also like to spend as much time as I can with her before I need to leave. I am... not a young man, Indy. Depending on how long I am away, this may be one of my last chances to see her while I am in good health and of firm body."

"Yeah, of course, you don't need to ask," Indiana said, standing his arms and smoothing out the wings of his coat, "I hope you won't need to be gone long."

"I hope so too," Johan said, standing up as well. For a moment, the two of them stood there, before Johan eventually spread his arms for a hug. Indiana, with only a hint of reluctance, moved around the coffee table to accept the embrace.

Johan had always been a man who enjoyed a few walks through nature. Fortunately for him, Anna seemed to enjoy it just as much as he did. The fresh forest air filled his lungs as a pair of binoculars bounced against his chest, his eyes aimed up into the sky, constantly searching.

With a walking stick to help support his leg, Johan tramped down the trail next to the rambunctious filly as she rattled on and on about every other thing. She talked about how a few miles west of them, she fought treasure hunters in a mineshaft. She talked about how she would sometimes just fly free from her house to the forest to just rest on a random tree branch.

"-But you know, walking on the ground is a bit more boring than just flying back and forth over the top. But it's pretty okay, especially since I need to walk in order to talk with you," Anna finished, finally stopping to breathe as they reached the top of a hill.

Johan stopped, raising his binoculars to his eyes as he looked skywards, "Look at that bird, Anna."

Anna reached down towards a similar, smaller pair of binoculars and raised them to her eyes, squinting into them. Eventually, she sighted the same thing as the zoologist - a striking, red bird, "Hey I know those ones. I raced and caught one once."

"The Northern Cardinal, a male specimen," Johan muttered, "I would bet it will be nesting at this time of year..."

"Want me to go grab it?" Anna asked, lowering her binoculars and shifting on her hooves, flaring her wings.

"No, no..." Johan held out a hand to stay her, binoculars still fastened to his eyes, "Let's just watch, quietly..." he said, sitting down.

Anna shrugged, raising her binoculars again and tracking the bird as it flew around. She could hear its song, mixing in with the variety of other chirps and whistles echoing through the forest.

"Ah! There! See that one? With the greenish plumage?" Johan said, jabbing out a finger.

Anna re-centered her vision, watching as another bird fluttered between the boughs of trees, occasionally swooping close to the ground then back up into the air. The other, red bird continued to fly around the area, the two occasionally losing sight of it behind the leaves.

"That one is a female," Johan whispered, "In birds, females will generally have duller feathers, you know?"

"Why's that?" Anna asked, watching as the bird landed, hopping around and gathering twigs from the base of a tree.

"We think females have duller plumage to protect themselves from predators. The female must build nests and incubate eggs, which leaves them more vulnerable. The male is more brightly colored, as they are more... expendable," Johan whispered, eventually regaining tracking of the male as he landed on a branch nearby the female, "...These two are mates, I believe."

Anna watched, silent as she watched the two hop about, doing their duties, unaware of the two watching from a distance. Or... perhaps they were? Occasionally, she saw the bright red male giving glances towards them, its beady little eyes constantly darting back and forth across the forest. Forehead creasing, she asked, "What eats these birds?"

"Other birds," Johan shrugged, "The falcon, eagles, owls... you."

"I don't eat the birds!" Anna retorted.

"You may as well have. If you chased and caught a bird, you likely injured or exhausted it. It would have been less likely it could've fended for it and its nest," Johan said, clinical detachment in his voice as he passively watched.

Anna's ears fell. She had killed birds before. Ever since she was small and learned how to fly, she'd been chasing birds around. They were just fast moving, little balls of competition trying to take the sky from her. Occasionally, when barreling into them, they hadn't gotten back up and flown away.

"Don't feel bad," Johan said, reaching over a hand to drape over her shoulders, "You didn't know. I imagine it might even be natural for you to chase birds."

"What do you mean?" Anna asked, voice cracking a bit as she imagined the two birds, constantly watching each other's backs, suddenly being separated by a mean, old rat-horse fooling around in the sky.

"Well, when you were young and just learning how to fly, you could never catch the birds. Perhaps competing and racing birds was how you were meant to learn to fly," Johan posited, lowering his binoculars and looking over at her with a smile, "Just keep watching, I bet we can find out where their nest is."

Anna reluctantly turned her attention back to the birds, watching as the female took the stack of twigs in its beak back to a small hollow in a tree. Her ears perked as she watched it disappear out of sight, the male still perched and alert in a nearby bough.

"The female will mate and lay a clutch of three eggs. She'll then sit on them, incubating them until they hatch while the male goes out to collect food. Seeds, small fruits and berries, grains.. it will even predate on things like grasshoppers and beetles. They will usually save those insects for their hatchlings," Johan explained, adjusting the zoom on his binoculars as the male took off, fluttering between shrubbery, "They are ground-feeders. That means they will land and search for food laying on the ground."

"Huh..." Anna muttered, lowering her binoculars as she lost sight of both the male and female birds, "Do they have the same mate for life?"

"No. Sometimes, the female will have a different male depending on the season. Sometimes she has the same one all year," Johan said, "Many animals don't have the same norms as we do. The ones that do mate for life, though... it is always quite inspiring to see."

Suddenly, Johan pointed again, urging Anna to raise her binoculars again as he said, "Look! Look there! The American Crow!"

Anna raised her binoculars and aimed into the sky, where she saw a flight of medium-sized, black birds.

"The Crow is one of my favorites," Johan said, smiling widely, "This is a great spot for birdwatching. I am disappointed in myself that I haven't come out here sooner."

"My Uncle Rich once said that crows meant bad luck," Anna mused, watching as the birds flew overhead, quickly disappearing behind the canopy and breaking line of sight, "But Dad says that bad luck doesn't exist."

"Humans think of a lot of silly things like that, Anna," Johan said, a wistful tone in his voice as he lowered his binoculars and reached for his walking stick, "In reality, if I hadn't discovered you, Anna, I likely would have studied crows instead."

"Oh?" Anna asked, getting to her hooves.

Johan grunted as he used his staff to raise himself to his feet, before eventually saying, "Yes. My dissertation was on an experiment I performed with them. I created a puzzle, the reward for which was the crows' favorite food. Over time, the puzzle became more and more complicated as I added more components and challenges. One by one, the crows overcame them all. They were even capable of using tools, you know?"

"Really?" Anna asked, enraptured as they continued down the trail.

"I think if humans didn't exist, crows would have eventually figured out how to take over the Earth," Johan paused, before his lips pulled up at the edges and he gave Anna a glance, "Or your people would have."

Anna frowned, looking away into the forest, "You know, one of these days I think we should go looking for more of me."

"More of your kind?" Johan asked, before immediately moving on, "We did try. We couldn't find anybody."

"Why?" Anna queried.

"We don't know," Johan shrugged, "All of our searches came up empty-handed."

Anna scrunched up her muzzle, narrowing her eyes for a moment, before eventually nodding to herself, "You know, in 1929 my dad went and found out that the world was hollow?"

"Really?" Johan asked. He had, indeed, read her childish novel about her father's adventures through the so-called 'interior world'. Her father had told her that it was a fictional bedtime story he'd told her that she'd taken and spun into a full novella.

"Well I think my people are kinda like that," Anna said, bobbing her head slightly, "Hiding away somewhere magical, that no humans know about."

Johan turned that over in his brain a few times, before shrugging and ceding, "Maybe."

The sound of rushing water grew in the distance as they made their way to a shore of a lake. A small waterfall rustled on the far side of the lake, the result of the river that ran all the way up from the mountain past Camp Hadley. Once again, Johan braced against his walking stick and lowered himself onto the ground by the shore, taking a deep breath as he rested in the shade of a tree and took his hat off.

A shrill, ear-piercing call rang through the air from a trail of wood ducks, paddling through the fairly stagnant water in the middle of the lake. Johan raised his binoculars, Anna mirroring him as she sat down next to him.

"The Wood Duck," Johan identified, "They are one of the only types of ducks that can nest in trees."

"What do other ducks do?" Anna asked.

"On the ground, usually," Johan muttered, "Once her eggs hatch, the mother duck will lead its ducklings into the water."

"How do they fly after getting all wet?" Anna questioned, lowering her binoculars and gazing out on the ducks without the magnification, "When I try and fly after getting out of water, my wings don't work very well."

"Your feathers don't possess much waterproofing," Johan explained, "Ducks have glands that secret a certain kind of oil that waterproofs their feathers. All waterfowl have the same waterproofing. Some will dive down to catch fish, so they would be in trouble if their feathers got waterlogged."

Something splashed in the nearby water, causing Anna to jump slightly. Her eyes warily watched the shallow water as a dark figure moved around, going back deeper underwater. She shifted a bit towards her uncle.

"Don't get me wrong. Your feathers do actually have some sort of waterproofing," Johan said, "I haven't been able to observe exactly how it works, but if you didn't have them you wouldn't even be able to fly in the rain."

"Do all birds have some kind of waterproof feathers?" Anna asked, wrenching her eyes away from the water.

"All birds do, yes, but usually they need to use their beaks to take oil from a gland and spread it across their feathers," Johan muttered, finally taking his eyes out of his binoculars and looking over to Anna, "Birds will generally use their beaks to pick out dead feathers as well. But you just use that brush I gave you."

Anna unfolded a wing, raising it to her muzzle level. When she was young, she would sometimes chew on her wing idly, in a way that her father had said was 'just like sucking your thumb', whatever that meant.

"Back in Germany, my home, we had a forest next to my village. I would go and play there all the time as a boy," Johan reached down, patting his right leg, "I was born with a leg that was shorter than the other. So I always had to walk around with a crutch or a cane."

Anna took her eyes off of her wing, looking down at her uncle's leg. The sole of one of his shoes was always much wider than the other, and when he didn't have his staff he always limped around slowly.

"So while the other boys would play tag and run through the woods, I would always need to slowly totter along. I hated it at the time... but then I eventually learned to appreciate the slowness. To take time to sit and look around, observe the birds, the bees, the critters darting between the bushes..." Johan took a deep breath, looking up towards the clouds, "I think there are very important things we need to learn from nature, Anna."

"Like what?" Anna asked, tilting her head.

"A lot of people like to portray nature as innocent and pious. Predators hunt and kill because they need to eat and keep the prey animals in check. Without the herbivores, weeds would grow and choke the trees. Without the trees, there would be no shelter from the wind and the rain. Yet, despite this balance, there is evil and good in the wild," Johan said, voice wistful once again as he drew his legs in and wrapped his arms around them, "Some predators will play with their food, just to watch it suffer. Some prey will betray and cannibalize each other. Mothers will sacrifice their young to save their own skin. Mates will kill each other and their young over perceived unfaithfulness. Colonies of ants have been perfecting the art of war for much longer than humans have.

"Yet, there are also animals that will fight relentlessly to protect their family, even to the point where it is... illogical for the continuation of their species. There are certain species with the capacity to show love and empathy, even for those not of their kind," Johan smiled, "People who say 'that is simply the nature of things', discount the true beauty of it, I think. The beauty of animals that have the capacity to do right and wrong, and those who choose right... despite not having the laws, the morals, the teachings of humankind. I think that speaks to a spirit that is present in us as well."

Anna's eyes finally wandered back over to the lake, to watch the tiny, yellow ducklings following the adults as they swam around, looking for food. Eventually, she nodded to herself, "I think I get it."

The two fell into silence. Hours passed as they simply sat by the shoreline of the lake, gazing into the sky as the clouds scrolled past and the birds flitted between the trees. Soaking it all in, until it was finally time to get back up and journey back to the road to rumble back into town. Though, it was definitely not the last time that year that they would be there. Every month, they returned to that same grassy embankment, watching as birds nested, eggs hatched, and new species flew in. All the way until the leaves turned orange and the wind grew cold, and they got to watch the birds migrate away for the winter.

The day eventually came for the Joneses to see the good doctor off at the port. Johan had bought Anna an extra deluxe artisan creation of ice cream, before they slowly and regretfully walked down the boardwalk towards the docks where the passenger ships would be departing from. A large crowd bustled around the one of the liners heading out towards Europe, creating an escalating feeling of dread in all as they neared the edge of the crowd, within which Johan would be lost as they boarded the ship and headed off.

Johan gave a deep sigh, reaching under his arm towards a brown package, trapped between the side of his chest and an arm carrying a briefcase. Taking it out, he held it towards Anna, who was hovering near him and licking her heavily-adorned iced treat, "I cannot be around for Christmas, Anna, so I am going to give you your present early."

Indiana gave a wistful smile as he watched Anna grab the package with one hoof, before staring down at it cluelessly. Taking it from her, he assisted in unwrapping it, revealing a large, hardcover book inside. A fresh smell drifted from its pages, and on its cover was an artist illustration along with the title: "AMERICAN BIRDS: An Intermediate Ornithologist's Guide".

Anna took it, before sniffling and reaching up to awkwardly rub one of her eyes, "T-Thanks Uncle Johan..."

"Keep an eye on those ducks for me, okay? You can write me about it when they return from their migration," Johan asked, reaching up to wipe at an eye with the cuff of one of his sleeves, eyes watering.

"I will," Anna promised.

"Get your pictures! Final photographs before leaving New York City!" a voice called from up ahead, emanating from a pair of men standing around a professional photo-camera, mounted on a tripod. Instantly, the one calling out locked eyes on the tearful three as they approached, walking over, "You! How do you feel about immortalizing this very moment? Only a dollar and a half for two pictures!"

Indiana, Anna, and Johan all shared a look towards each other. Eventually, Indiana reached into his coat pocket, taking out his wallet and fishing out a dollar bill and a silver coin, holding it out towards the photographers. Anna reached into her pocket, taking a handkerchief to wipe her muzzle free of ice cream as they were ushered over to the railing bordering the boardwalk.

"Allllright!" the photographer said, helping the camera operator, "Just a bit to your right! Gotta get the Statue in there, eh?"

"Yeah..." Indiana muttered, interlocking arms with Johan behind Anna. She continued to hover there, holding the ice cream by her side and giving her best smile, past the tears forming in her eyes.

There was a bright flash as the camera fired. Gingerly, the photographers adjusted their camera before calling out, "One more! Try and keep your eyes open!"

Anna blinked rapidly to try and keep her eyes clear before wrenching her eyelids as far open as they could. The camera flashed again, the photographer gingerly fishing out a pair of film sheets to hand over towards Indiana. Indiana took it, before tipping his hat politely to them and moving on.

A horn blew through the air up ahead as the crowd around the gangplanks began to move. It was clear that it was boarding time, which ushered the group to move forward with a bit of urgency to move to join the crowd.

Johan, limping slightly despite his cane, gave a side-eye towards Indiana, "Indy, you are one of the best Americans I have met during my stay here."

"You're one of the best Germans I've ever met," Indiana said back, giving a slight smile, "I'll make sure to hit you up whenever I'm in Europe next."

Johan nodded, before looking towards Anna, "Anna, you are one of the most brilliant things I've ever come across in my life. I can't wait to see you all grown up, teaching and uncovering the past just like your father."

"Hey... we'll see each other before then, right?" Anna asked, lips beginning to quiver as they reached the periphery of the crowd of passengers.

Johan nodded, a tear rolling down his cheek, "I-I am just... sad that I will not be able to come and see Connecticut any more. It- It's a beautiful place, Anna, your home town."

"I bet Berlin is just as nice," Anna said, breath choking in her throat as she raised a hoof to rake away some tears away from her eyes.

Johan reached forward, dragging the hovering Anna into his embrace. Her ice cream, held in her right hoof, smeared across the side of his head, but he didn't mind. Eventually, Indiana joined in, hugging his daughter from the other side. Eventually, they pealed off.

Indiana waved the undeveloped film, as he held it it between his index and thumb, "Send us some photographs with your letters, okay Doc?"

"I will," Johan said, rubbing out more of his tears with his thumb, "Goodbye, Doctor Jones, Miss Jones."

"See you in a bit, Johan," Indiana wished.

"B-Bye, Uncle Johan..." Anna blubbered, hovering close to her father as her wingbeats grew unsteady and uncoordinated.

She eventually leaned fully into her father's shoulder as Johan finally joined those climbing up the gangplank, being one of the last in line as sailors ushered him up the ramp. They stayed ashore, waving from the boardwalk as the ship eventually cast off and began to steam towards the horizon. Anna flew up to those waving from the side of the boat, staying with her uncle until she eventually needed to peel off to come back to land.

Author's Note

Next: Marcus Brody

22: Marcus, 1932

Marcus Brody stared at Indiana almost blankly as the archaeologist paced back and forth in front of his desk. Indiana gesticulated wildly, a very recognizable gleam in his eye as he passionately recounted his reasoning around the origin of some seemingly magical amulet and the location of a demon monkey idol, both of which were somehow related to the machinations of a religious movement in Kenya. Marcus was beginning to struggle to keep his eyes focused as his brain thrummed against the sides of his skull.

"...So yeah, that's the long and short of it," Indiana said, much to the relief of the curator. Turning around to face Marcus, he asked a question he'd posed many, many times before: "So, can you take care of Anna while I'm gone?"

"I will be going back to England for a while," Marcus sighed, looking down to adjust the wings of his jacket as he finally straightened up, "I can take her with me then."

"Visiting family?" Indiana asked.

"Sort of," Marcus gave a half-hearted grimace, "The family estate, Indy. I am afraid I will need to sell it."

"Oh," Indiana's face fell, "...I'm sorry."

"Yes, well, I'm going to spend one last Christmas there while I make the preparations to put it up for sale. Sell the furniture, get all the heirlooms out, exhume the family from the private graveyard and move them somewhere I can continue to visit them," Marcus sighed, "All that wealth my father and grandfather built up, just turned to a bunch of useless paper stocks."

"I um-" Indiana stuttered, lowering his head slightly, "I hope I didn't-"

"No, no," Marcus interrupted, "It's my fault, doing all this... speculation. The money would have gone to waste either way," a shrug, "The only reason I choose to sell it now is because, otherwise, it's just going to sit around collecting debt. I wouldn't be able to pay the staff to maintain the property, the taxes would put me at a deficit... and slowly the house would just fall apart. I couldn't have that, I'd much rather it remain in good hands."

"Still, I'm sorry," Indiana muttered, voice low as he gave a hesitant shrug.

"How long will you be gone?" Marcus asked, reaching out to pick up a pen and play with it in his hands.

"Until February, at least," Indiana said.

Marcus frowned, "You're going to miss Christmas and her birthday. You know she hates that."

"I'll bring something back for her," Indiana said, too quickly and too nonchalantly.

Marcus sighed, mood far too low to argue with the other man. Twirling the pen in his right hand, he eventually just sighed and waved a hand dismissively, "Have fun in Kenya, Indy. Try not to get yourself killed."

"I'll try," Indiana offered lamely.

The money he would get from selling off the furniture and other items alone would put enough savings in his pocket to last him a good while, even with a relatively lavish lifestyle. Depending on how long it took for a buyer to grab the house, likely at below market value, Marcus had a good chance of not sweating too much about finances for the next while.

Thus, as he left America with his niece in tow, and his mood dipped into a terrible, melancholic low he found himself relying more and more on luxury to distract himself. Rather than a simple passenger liner, Marcus and Anna travelled on a first class liner across the Atlantic, putting themselves up in a suite. It was a Cunard Line ship, which in Brody's memory was always the first class in ocean liner... while not having the dark reputation of the White Star Line.

"Is this like the Titanic?" Anna asked, looking over the ship as they approached the passenger terminal, recalling a certain story her father had told him.

"The Titanic was a passenger liner," Marcus said, "This is a passenger liner also."

"Dad says he was on the Titanic when it sunk," Anna nodded sagely, "He says that him and his old tutor Seymour barely got out."

Marcus creased his brow. Was there any major event in the last three decades that Indy hadn't experienced?

The week it took for the ship to cruise across the Atlantic to Europe was, in the two's opinion, far too short. It was with great regret that Marcus and Anna disembarked from the ship, leaving behind their luxury suite and the stewards who waited on them hand and foot. Though, they were fortunate in the fact that they had arrived before the first snows, with Marcus promising that Anna would love his old house even more than she loved the liner.

An old friend from Oxford loaned Marcus an automobile, which they drove out into the countryside north of London, near Oxford. Anna's mind very vaguely recalled a few details about England, about the feel of its air, the smell of its people, and the look of its plants. It was with some disappointment that she finally realized that her book on American Birds was unlikely to be very helpful in England.

Marcus stopped the car next to a bookstore, once again distracting himself from his upcoming tasks by delighting himself in the joy on Anna's face as he emerged with another book. ENGLISH BIRDS, written by the same author in a series of ornithological guides to world bird species.

The sun set, its orange rays peeking a few times through endlessly scrolling grey clouds. Despite the failing light, Anna kept her eyes glued to the new book she had gotten. Just as quickly as Marcus's smile had come, though, it faded as he spotted the silhouette of his old home on the horizon.

It wasn't that old. Early Modern age in origin, though its facets were meant to mimic more Georgian styles. Green ivy crawled up the sides of its grey stone bricks. Hedges surrounded a delicate courtyard, with stables, carriage house, and a walled garden built around its periphery. A fountain in the center of the area was inactive, collecting dust and scum at its bottom as its spout hadn't flowed in decades.

A man in a suit came out to meet them as they came out of their car, helping them with their luggage and other belongings.

"This is my butler, Denholm," Marcus introduced, "Denholm, this is Anna. My niece."

"Righto," Denholm nodded, a pair of bushy eyebrows settling over his eyes as he looked down at Anna, "Good to meet you," he looked back to Marcus, "...And it is good to have you back in the house again, Master Brody... even though it is not under the happiest of circumstances."

Marcus sighed, "...Indeed, well, it's good to be back at least for a little while."

"I have ensured the staff have cleaned up the place as much as possible in preparation for your return," he said, hoisting the two's luggage under his arms and walking towards the front door, "But with so few cleaners, it's... hard for them to get everything spotless."

Marcus could already spy that the outside of the home hadn't been washed, ash still clinging to awnings and walls. There was some overgrowth in the hedges, with some weeds growing under the shadows of the bushes. Still, he had no desire to complain, he would hire a greater team of cleaners to come and fully do the manor over before it opened to buyers.

He gave a glance over his shoulder, seeing Anna lagging behind slightly as she slowly walked up the stairs backwards, eyes wide and still taking in the environment. He took the opportunity to lean close into Denholm's shoulder, "One of the most important thing about this time, Denholm, is that I allow one more child the magic of these halls before I bid them goodbye. The last service you may do for me is ensuring this last Christmas has as much energy as possible."

"Very well, sir," Denholm nodded, giving a wistful smile as he pushed the front door open with a shoulder.

Marcus's house was old, drafty, but filled with an absolute banquet for the eyes when it came to old, interesting stuff to look at. Anna spent all of the rest of her time up until dinner walking side by side with her uncle, just looking at various things mounted to walls and placed upon pedestals and inside display cases. They were currently making their way through the western wing of the house, towards the old library, stopping every so often to marvel at something behind glass.

It was almost like the entire home was a museum. Which, Anna thought, was actually rather fitting.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing towards a model ship.

"That's a model of the HMS Unicorn. She was fabled to be carrying a great treasure when she was sunk by pirates," Marcus scoffed, shaking his head with a smile, "But everyone knows pirates don't attack ships-of-the-line. It was more likely just a storm. Very rare model, though. Only three made."

"What's that?" asked Anna, turning her attention to another piece.

"That was the sword my great-great-great grandfather owned when he was a navy captain," Marcus mused, looking at the decorated saber, "Captain of the HMS Scout. He was the first in my family to really become successful. Worked closely with the Royal Society, turned my family from business owners to minor aristocracy under the crown, then into a scholarly line."

Anna reached up, trying to run her forehoof over the sharp edge of the sword from where it hung on the wall, however she was guided away by Marcus's hand. Next, she looked towards a row of paintings hung on the wall, "Who's that?"

Marcus looked away from Anna towards the first painting, "That's Sir Michael Brody. The aforementioned navy captain. He fought in America, you know?"

"Against the loyalists?" Anna asked innocently, stopping to look up at the painting - depicting a man wearing a navy blue coat and looking out to sea from the deck of a wooden ship.

"Er, no," Marcus chuckled, "My family has always been Britishers. He sunk one of the sister-ships of the USS Constitution, you know?"

"What was that?" Anna asked, tilting her head and looking back over her shoulder at her uncle.

"Well the Constitution was an advanced type of wooden ship that had a very strong hull. She fought several British ships and won. Her sister ship, the Boston, was very presumptuous about her strength when bearing down on an inferior British ship. But the Scout bade her time and fired more carefully aimed shots with an experienced crew. The Americans didn't have the time or the skill to fire more than one broadside, most of which missed. The Scout's guns killed the enemy captain in its first volley, then they locked yardarms with the Scout's starboard side pressed against the Boston's stern."

"That's why they should've put guns on the back, like they do today," Anna pointed out with a roll of her eyes.

"Erh, they do have guns on the back," Marcus gave a nod back towards the display case a few paces back, "But every ship is weaker on its back and front than it is on its sides. So even though the cannonballs would bounce off the sides, they could pierce the stern, and they did grievous damage to the American crew before boarding and overwhelming the survivors. My ancestor was knighted for that one."

Anna scrunched up her nose, before eventually muttering, "Still won the war," and moving on.

Marcus Brody grinned to himself, running a hand along the side of his head as he continued on next to her, "After the war, my father wrote a treatise about his accounts of South American cultures. From then on, we moved away from being a military family and towards being men of science, instead."

"Dad says you have two doctorates?" Anna asked, peeking around a corner, before trotting forward at a slightly increased pace.

"In anthropology and history, yes," Brody said, "I got one from Oxford, one from Princeton. That's where I met your grandfather, you know?"

"You know my grandfather?" Anna asked, stopping and turning around with raised eyebrows. Eventually, though, she lowered her head, "Dad says he's real mean."

"Your grandfather and his son have never had the best of relationships," Marcus sighed, reaching up and smoothing the fringe of his hair.

"Why?" Anna asked, turning around and walking again, spying the doors ahead leading to the library.

Marcus grimaced, considering his next words carefully. He was hesitant to say anything that would anger either party, despite feeling the need to defend both of them at the same time. Nervously, he gently explained, "Your grandfather was very neglectful of Indy when he was your age. Indiana was so angry at him that he ran away and went to war, which grieved your grandfather very much."

"They should probably apologize to each other," Anna rolled her eyes, hopping up and turning the knob on the door leading into the library.

Marcus huffed, eyes looking skywards as she followed her in, saying under his breath, "You're telling me..."

Windows looked out over the fields adjacent to the house, breaking up rows upon rows of bookshelves. A vaulted ceiling hung overhead, lit by a chandelier as a staircase lead to an overlook, where more bookshelves and study spaces existed. Doors lead back towards the center of the house, and out into the fields. A few more display cases and paintings were placed between the bookshelves or where there weren't any windows to break up the shelves.

Marcus frowned, walking over to one of the display cases and peering at the funerary mask inside, "I'd forgotten all about this one. This should be in a museum..."

Marcus turned around, seeing Anna perusing the stacks of books in his shelves. She grabbed out a book, titled in Greek, opening it to a random page and sitting on a couch to read idly. He smiled a bit, remembering a much younger Marcus Brody prancing between the stacks, wearing his collar high and his pants tucked into his socks from riding practice. He would yank out the musings of philosophers and scholars from ages past, reading them alongside books of daring knights and fearless sea captains.

It was a simpler time, before the crash, the war, before all the drama and hubbub in Europe. It was when the telephone and the airplane were the most fascinating things for a young man to marvel about. Now, he was an old man, where every new development seemed to make the world darker and every new technology seemed to forge a path for evil. There was about to be so little left of that bygone age as Marcus reached the era in his life where life stopped giving him things, and started to take them away instead.

The younger Marcus Brody drew his book closer, kicking his legs as he read from the couch. He would look up from the top of his book, staring dreamily at the wallpaper and counting the tiles on the ceiling. He would think about how would want to become an actor, or maybe a medical doctor when he grew up. He would think about what was for dinner, or about the warm sheets he was going to be able to retreat to.

The old man in front of him slowly doddered his way over, running a hand across one of the shelves until he arrived at the seat. Gripping onto one of the armrests, he sat down next to the boy, looking over his shoulder at his book.

"You know, that was one of my old favorites," Marcus said to Anna, the vision slowly fading from his eyes.

Anna's eyes came away from the wallpaper and the ceiling tiles, blinking at Marcus a few times. Eventually, she asked, "What's it about?"

"Well what's it called?" Marcus queried, pointing towards one of the covers.

Anna turned it over, reading the Greek on it, "Ponderings of the Great Thinkers," she translated.

"I used to have a tutor who taught me Greek, just like yours," Marcus said, leaning back into his couch and interlacing his fingers in front of himself, "Some of the books in this place are very old. Old enough that some of them are written in Latin and Middle English. One of my greatest joys as a youth was to learn how to read a new book."

"Books are pretty nice," Anna said, voice completely honest as she then added: "But I don't like these kinds. I like the ones that're fictional."

Marcus blinked, before nodding, "Well that's entirely fair. I don't think your father was one for academic reading, either," he raised a hand, pointing to a shelf a few paces away from them, "There are some fictions there, as well. There's one that's written in Ancient Greek in there that might be quite stimulating, it's one of the oldest adventure books we've ever had."

Anna perked up, closing the book and tossing it aside onto the couch, before getting up and walking over to the indicated section. After a few more directions from Marcus, she pulled out the old Grecian travelogue and walked back over to the couch. Opening it up, she squinted at the writing on it.

"I can't read this," Anna said, "It doesn't make any sense."

"Well, that's because it's in Ancient Greek," Marcus pointed out, before reaching out a hand to grab one side of the book, "Here, allow me to teach you. It's not that hard once you know a few simple translations..."

For the next hour, they sat together. He helped her read out certain passages, advising her on others, and pointing out the differences between her modern understanding of the language and the millenia-old writing. At one point, Anna scrunched her muzzle in confusion.

"Isn't that talking like this is a real story?" Anna asked, "I thought you said this was fiction."

"Well, back in this day, it was very hard to travel outside of your home village or city," Marcus smiled, "So the writers of these travelogues could say they visited these far away places, bring back tales of said places, and then embellish all the details they want. As a satire, a later author claimed they visited the Moon."

"All my friends say that I was embellishing when I wrote about Dad going underground, or when he went to Marrakesh and fought the Nazis," Anna frowned, "How do we know they weren't telling the truth?"

"Well it's... highly unlikely the Greeks went to the Moon, Anna," Marcus chuckled, grinning widely as he placed his hands in front of him again.

There was a silence as Marcus watched Anna silently attempt to read the ancient script in the book. He wondered, in the back of his mind, if perhaps it would be wise to search out an English translation of the book in order to help her compare between the two and assist her learning. Then again, doubt popped into his mind about how eager she would be to go through more academia over the holidays, knowing how thorough her tutor was during the school days of the year.

Licking his lips, Marcus eventually enquired, "Anna, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I dunno," Anna shrugged, "I'm twelve years old, Uncle Marcus."

Tilting his head at her honesty, before nodding his head slightly, he eventually probed, "Anna, might you try and pursue literature?"

"Huh?" she asked, looking up from her book.

"Well, you know, writing?" Marcus asked, reaching up to scratch the back of his head, "I read your novel about your father's adventures. For being only nine years old when you penned it, it was very impressive."

"You think so?" Anna asked, tilting her head.

"Yes," Marcus nodded, "Do you have a typewriter at home?"

"No..." Anna started, before stopping herself and correcting: "Well, yes, actually. But Dad keeps it in his study and I'm not meant to go in there."

"Well perhaps I can give you one of your own," Marcus hummed, tapping his fingers against the back of the couch. Eventually, he stood up, straightening his coat, "I will tell you, though, that most of this library will be sold by next year. My task for you this Christmas is to go through the book in here and telling me everything you would like to take home with you."

Anna's eyes bugged at that, and she immediately panned her vision around the library. It was almost large enough to compete with the public one back in Bedford, and she was told she could keep anything she wanted. Almost immediately, she shrugged off the travelogue, placing it atop the last book she discarded, before once again walking to the fiction section to ogle the spines.

Despite the weight in his heart, Marcus smiled again, turning to run a hand along the shelf once again as he walked back for the doors.

The very next day was the first snowfall. After a breakfast of fresh pancakes, topped with syrup, whipped cream, and berries, Marcus had urged Anna to don her winter gear and head outside. Denholm had prepared a carriage with a horse, one that had been rented as the stables in the Brody estate hadn't been in use for decades.

"This is how we used to travel down to the village when I was a boy!" Marcus said, walking over to step up onto the carriage with a grunt, taking the reigns as Anna flitted up from the ground next to him.

Anna was fairly silent, giving the horse a wary look as she sat on the seat next to him, "Where're we going, Uncle Marcus?"

As soon as they were both settled, Marcus snapped the reigns and urged the horse onwards, before responding with, "Well, we are going to the yard where they sell Christmas trees. Then, I am going to dodder around the old town to see how things have gotten on there since I was last here."

The horse kept tossing its head, trying to look behind itself despite the blinders keeping its eyes on the road ahead. The light snowfall was insufficient to provide too much of an obstacle to the carriage's wheels as they trundled along, a patchwork green-and-white landscape surrounding them as they gained distance from the manor.

Anna reached into her coat idly, taking out her pocket watch. Licking her lips, she stared down into it, looking at her reflection against the pale light streaming down from the grey clouds overhead.

"Oh? Where'd you get that from?" Marcus asked, glancing away from the road towards the watch, "Hmm. Gold?"

"Gold plated, Dad says," Anna shrugged, "I got it when I ran away from those treasure hunters near the Hadley Mine."

"I would've thought he would have sold it," Marcus remarked, relaxing his grip on the reigns as he leaned back into the carriage, enjoying the feeling of cold air across his face.

"He said we could, but..." Anna looked down at it, remembering that moment in the forest, hiding underneath the branch... when everything suddenly seemed to feel so right as she looked into its reflection, "I wanted to keep it."

"Does it work?" Marcus asked.

"No," Anna said, opening the top and winding it, showing the clock hands frozen in place, "We think it stopped working when it got dropped down a big shaft with its owner."

Marcus pursed his lips, looking out ahead onto the road, before nodding to himself quietly. Eventually, they arrived at the village, with Marcus hitching the horse and Anna flying down from the carriage and walking in the opposite direction. Together, they joined a busy crowd at a big, fenced-off yard where trees were being sold. After picking out a seemingly healthy and tall - but not too tall - tree to take back home, they secured it to the carriage.

Marcus knew exactly where they were going next, ushering Anna along as they made their way to the local watchmaker.

The watchmaker cautiously inspected the internal mechanical pieces of Anna's watch under a magnifying glass. His thick moustache hid his pursed lips, and a thin pair of eyebrows slanted together as he examined the clockwork with an expert gaze. Eventually, he looked up towards his two customers, "Antique. About forty years old, I would reckon."

"Can you see what's wrong?" Marcus asked.

"Mhm. A bunch of the pieces are bent completely out of shape," the watchmaker said, laying his magnifying glass on the table next to the watch, "I would advise you to just get a new watch, but I assume this is an heirloom?"

Marcus gave a glance towards Anna, before turning his gaze upon the watchmaker again, "Erh- yes. How long would it take for you to fix it?"

"At this point, it would be best if I overhauled the clockwork entirely," the watchmaker surmised, taking a small, thin instrument and tapping a few gears inside the watch, "There is erosion here, likely from water leaking past the casing and into the clockwork. If I just repaired the critically damaged parts, it would probably break down again in a few weeks. I will have to order a full set of replacement parts from a customer tooler in London and replace the entire mechanism. They don't make these pieces standard anymore."

Anna shrugged, "It's okay, I don't really need it to work-"

Marcus hushed her with a wave of his hand, "Can you get it done before Christmas?" he asked the watchmaker.

The watchmaker sighed, "...Might be waiting until February?"

Marcus, in response, reached into his pocket and took out a fifty pound bill and placed it on the table. The watchmaker blinked, before reaching out and taking the bill.

"I'll have it to you by Christmas Eve, guaranteed," he said, tipping his flatcap.

On their way back from the village, the Christmas tree secured to the back of the carriage and the wheels trundling along through the snow, Marcus grunted in frustration as the horse once again tossed its head, whipping the reigns about. Its gait was unsteady, stopping and starting seemingly without any reason as it continued to whip its head back and forth, flare its nostrils, and whinny.

"I must know where Denholm got this beast from," Marcus growled in frustration, cracking the reigns once again as the horse inexplicably stopped once again, "Must've sold us something not broken in yet!"

Anna looked at the horse uncomfortably as, in response to the crack, it just tossed its head again. Eventually, one of the blinders on the side of its face came loose, flopping aside and allowing the horse to finally turn its head and look back at her. Its glassy eye met her, and suddenly its expression changed into one of pure panic.

Marcus gasped as the horse began to buck and storm, kicking the front of the carriage in what appeared to be panic. Its hooves cracked the wood as its driver attempted to haul in on the reigns. Anna gave out a scream of fear as the wooden bracing in the front of the carriage cracked open, which seemed to prompt the horse into greater fear as it suddenly set its hooves and began to gallop forward.

"Whoah! Whoah! WHOAH!" Marcus screamed as they were suddenly blitzing across the countryside at full speed. Desperately, he tried to regain control of the animal, but it was clear that its mind was far too clouded by fear to listen to any commands.

The horse made its way down the road at full tilt, until the road turned. Ignoring the turn, the horse leapt over the fence protecting the side from an embankment leading down to an icy river. The carriage, following closely behind, smashed into the fence with the crunch of wood and the splintering of planks. The two passengers within were launched forward as the carriage's motion was arrested, and the harness keeping the horse attached was destroyed.

The stallion continued to flee wildly across the river, hooves splashing through the shallow water and chunks of ice. The carriage skidded forward, its front destroyed along with the fence, a few feet down the bank before the friction of the gravel brought it to a stop.

Marcus and Anna clutched each other, staring forward at the rushing, icy river ahead of them. The pine needles of the Christmas tree fastened to the back brushed against their heads, and their feet and hind legs struggled for purchase against the floor as the river torrented past a few inches down.

"Well, that was close," Marcus said, looking up to see their horse turning into a distant dot.

There was another crack of wood as one of the arms of the carriage splintered, causing the entire thing to fall forward once again, upending itself and dumping the two passengers firmly into the river.

Fortunately, as soon as Anna's wings freeze-dried, she was able to shake the ice out of them and fly to the manor to call Denholm to come in the car. Shivering and near death, they sat next to the fire together, nursing cups of hot cocoa. The next day, the tree was set up and decorated. While Marcus could remember the days when full-sized trees were brought home on the backs of wagons, large enough to fit the vaulted ceiling of the foyer, this year it was only practical to bring a normal-size tree to place in the lounge.

Unfortunately, as soon as December arrived, Uncle and Niece rapidly came down ill with pneumonia. No doubt as a result of the exposure to the icy cold water. That put a firm rain check on their plans to go ice skating, building a snowman, and going to the cathedral to listen to the choir singing Christmas carols.

Instead, they got to sit at home, running fevers and lying in bed. At the very least, it gave Marcus the chance to sit and teach Anna how to use a typewriter. She struggled a bit with the keys and the size of her hooves, but eventually she seemed to get a method. It wasn't a method that Marcus could understand, by any measure, as it seemed to involve her hovering her forehooves on top of the keys and them magically clicking away by whatever invisible force propelled her ability to grip and manipulate objects.

Still, she was able to write a letter to her Uncle Johan, her Uncle Richard, and even to her tutor. It made Marcus much happier about one of his Christmas presents, which arrived a week before the day.

Out of bed, but still with a nasty cough, Marcus and Anna were once again able to peruse the halls of their estate. Unfortunately, Anna was more or less left to her own devices as Marcus was forced to retreat to his study to arrange for the sale of the estate's assets, the exhumation of his ancestors from the private graveyard, and of course a real estate company to take care of the house itself.

Still, even as delivery workers boxed up paintings, artefacts, heirlooms, and pieces of unnecessary furniture, Christmas drew nearer. Despite the fact that Anna had not the least bit of attachment to the home or its belongings, Marcus could still sense a deep sense of longing within her, even as she set up an electric toy train set and continued to grow more and more confident on the typewriter.

On Christmas Eve, as they cut a fresh ham, served pudding, a fancy vegetarian dish that Marcus didn't recognize for Anna, and poured glasses of grape juice, Marcus's suspicions were confirmed as Anna sighed and said, "I wish Dad were here..."

Marcus's heart broke for her as she sat, head low and ears flat on her skull. Indiana was, of course, somewhere in Kenya, risking life and limb for some ancient idol. It was an unspoken trust between the two of them that, if anything happened to Indiana, Marcus would be the one to take over her care. Every holiday that he was away, Marcus prayed to every deity from every religion he had studied that Indiana would come back... and perhaps even stay back.

Yet, for every time he was nearly blown up, shot, stabbed, or died of disease, Indiana would just come back, kiss his daughter on her forehead, then leave again.

Marcus, twirling his fork within his meal, decided to say something, "Can I be perfectly honest with you, Anna?"

Anna looked up, "Yeah..?"

Marcus felt a sting in his nose as his pain stabbed through his heart, "...I... I wish my father were here too."

"Where is he?" Anna asked, voice still glum as she lifelessly flicked her fork through her meal.

"He passed away, ten years ago," Marcus admitted, dropping his fork and interlocking his hands in front of himself, "I really miss him, especially around this time. This would usually be the time when he would lighten up the most, his mind off of work and on the holidays..."

"I hope my dad doesn't die," Anna said bluntly.

Marcus's heart fell even more at the thought that Anna had put thought towards the possibility of her father's death, "...I hope so too, Anna."

"...He's going to miss my birthday as well, isn't he?" Anna asked, placing her forehoof against her cheek as she too abandoned her meal.

Marcus didn't answer out loud. He simply looked down at the table and nodded silently.

Anna gave a deep sigh, eyes sweeping across the room and away from Marcus as her shoulders sagged, almost resigned as she questioned, "Did your dad always miss your birthdays too?"

"Sometimes," Marcus admitted, before his eyes flicked up towards her, "But, deep down I think he loved me very, very much," there was a pause, before Marcus probed, "You know your father loves you very, very much too, right?"

Anna shrugged, giving no further elaboration as she stared down into her food again.

Marcus pursed his lips, "You know, your father loved you so much that when he found you, he gave up adventuring and sat down to read books and teach all day for nine whole years. But... he's a lot like you. He doesn't like to read smart, nonfiction books all day. He likes to go out and see the world and get into a whole mess of trouble," a pause, "...But it's so much trouble that if you were there, Anna, he's afraid you would get hurt."

"I could handle myself," Anna claimed, folding her forelegs and looking up.

"It's more than that," Marcus explained, "He's afraid that if he keeps bringing you along, you won't be able to see your friends, or get your schooling done. He's afraid of hurting you when you grow up, not just right now."

Anna frowned deeply, breaking eye contact again, "...I just want to have him here for Christmas, Uncle Marcus. Every year, and for my birthday too..."

"You're right for wanting that, Anna," Marcus gave a sigh, picking up a fork and running his left fingers over the prongs of it, "But sometimes, I'm afraid we can't get what we want... no matter how unfair it is."

Anna considered that for a moment. Uncle Richard lost his boat, Uncle Johan had to move back to Germany, and Uncle Marcus was going to lose his old house. Still, no matter how much sense it made, it couldn't stop her heart from feeling like it was about to crawl down past her lungs and into her stomach.

They went to bed early that night, though all Anna did was lie in bed and stare out the window on the far side of her room, at the stars spanning across the sky and down towards the horizon past the fields. A star twinkled, followed by a white streak as it shot across the sky.

Rolling over, Anna closed her eyes and wished for her father.

There was no Christmas miracle the next day. Marcus tried his very best to make the date as special as possible for Anna. She was showered in gifts, the latest model of typewriter for her to take home with her, a bundle of several books she had selected from the private library, her watch - now working and ticking away normally, and new clothes tailored to her size.

Still, as the new year came and went, all Anna could think about was going home. Both her and Marcus left the estate with a very low spirit, leaving only a 'For Sale' sign behind, stapled to the wall next to the front gate. At the very least, a few weeks after they arrived back in America, Indiana came back from Africa with a few new bandages, bumps and bruises, and a few stories to tell.

Author's Note

today on indiana jones and the daring daughter:

A horse turns around to see an uncanny valley equine skinwalker sitting in the back seat and drives straight into a river.

23: Henry, 1933-1934

The Marshall College quad, filled with green trees and freshly cut grass, was much quieter than usual. In normal days, students would be moving back and forth across the cobblestone pathways cut between the foliage and the greens, sitting on benches, and congregating within their cliques. Now that it had become summer, the chatter and bustle had given way to the silent song of birds and the wind, with only a few trails of students making their way to whatever tasks they still had at the university during the holidays.

Marcus stood by the door to the Great Hall, where Marshall College's faculty administration and lecture halls laid. With his hands in his coat pockets, his eyes scanned the environment until they finally laid upon a familiar figure making its way across the quad. A grin spread across his face as he grew closer, and Marcus began to walk towards the other man to meet him halfway.

"Genius of the Restoration!"

"Aid our own resuscitation!" Marcus said, extending a hand out towards his old friend, "How are you doing, Henry old chap?"

Henry Walton Jones, Senior, smiled as he shook the hand heartily, the two men walking alongside each other as they made their way the rest of the distance towards the Great Hall, "Sad my tour is over, for sure. But, I think I've earned enough favors to allow myself a little time to pursue my own interests."

"The Grail?" Marcus asked, voice low and hesitant.

"The Grail," Henry answered confidently, "It's difficult, Marcus. The National Museum is uninterested in funding any real excavations, neither is the British Museum or... anyone else for that matter. I've put my lot in with some potential private investors, but we'll just have to see."

The two men mounted the stairs leading up into the mouth of Marshall's Great Hall. A hardwood floor clicked under their shoes as they made their way for the faculty wing. A few people bustled by, mostly custodial staff or faculty. Otherwise, the voices of the two old friends mostly echoed off of the walls through the silent space.

Eventually, after reversing the results of a wrong turn on Marcus's part, they arrived in the office section of the building. Long corridors were flanked on both sides by windowed doors with fogged glass, the names of the owners or purpose of each office written on it. As the two men chatted idly, Henry suddenly stopped, eyes locked on a door.

"PROFESSOR HENRY 'INDIANA' JONES - EGYPTOLOGY"

Henry Jones senior's visit to Connecticut had, very coincidentally, lined up with a point where Indiana was overseas. Marcus grimaced, deciding to at least attempt to uplift one of his friends to another one, "He's doing well in his teaching, you know. Even with all of the extra work he's been piled on with.."

"What is he teaching?" Henry asked, staying perfectly still, staring at the door with slightly squinted eyes, as if sizing up an ancient mural.

"He's teaching Marshall's course on ancient Mesopotamia, archaeology 101, a course on the ancient Orient..." Marcus placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, patting him a few times, "You'd be proud of him. He's struggled a lot, but he's overcome so many challenges..."

"I'm glad to hear it!" Henry said in a quick, jerky, clipped tone. He turned away from the door, walking forward again and forcing Marcus to catch up, "I would have been greatly happy to share in Junior's success, you know!"

"Henry, please..." Marcus pleaded, but was quickly cut off by a raised hand.

"No, no, I don't want to hear about all the ways I wronged the boy before he abandoned his father and the life I had built for him, in order to cowboy his way through the War and galavant around the world. I'm glad he's finally decided to settle down and find himself a real job," Henry almost spat, flexing his hands as they walked right by Marcus's office and began wandering aimlessly through the faculty area, "I'm happy for him, Marcus, I really am."

Marcus ran a finger through his collar, giving a glance behind himself at his own office door as they passed by it, "I'm- I'm glad to hear it, Henry."

Henry slowed down from his brisk walk, taking a deep breath and clasping his hands behind his back. Slowly, he turned and looked back towards Marcus, "...How is she doing?"

"She's with her tutor right now, going through her lessons," Marcus said, gesturing for Henry to follow as they went back the way to his office, "I am staying at Indiana's house every night, watching over her while her father is away."

"...Is she being taken care of well, by him?" Henry asked, not making eye contact as his voice dipped to a low tone.

"She is being taught a great many things. She knows Greek, Spanish... I hear he's starting her on some Oriental languages this year. She's excellent at geography, name a province that appears on a map and she'll point you to its exact placement without hesitation," a slight smile, "She's being taught shooting this year. A very educated young woman..."

Henry scoffed, though his face remained neutral, "Is she good with languages, like her father?"

"She's good, but not as good as Indy I don't think. The languages she doesn't practice are very sketchy, but she does seem to have at least a bit of talent with acquiring new ones," Marcus said, reaching into a pocket and retrieving his keys, inserting them into the lock of his office door and opening it.

"Marcus... I've been meaning to ask a favor of you," Henry said, reaching behind his head and scratching a bit, his hat wiggling as his fingers moved, "Since Indiana is out of town... could I see her?"

Marcus shook his head as he opened the door to his office: a larger-than-usual room flanked on either end with bookshelves and a window looking out over the quad. Inviting Henry to sit, Marcus himself sat on a luxuriant leather-upholstered chair at the head of his desk, "I couldn't go behind Indiana's back like that."

"Just because we are unable to resolve our differences doesn't mean I shouldn't be able to know her," Henry grumbled, walking over to the window and parting the blinds, drinking in the sun.

"Well I-" Marcus frowned. Indiana had the full right to control access to his own daughter, though Marcus didn't want to just tell it straight, "I think you would just damage your relationship with him further if you tried to do that."

Henry kept his back to Marcus, eyes gazing out the window, "...What if we don't see each other directly? Do you think it could be possible to... carry some correspondence to her?"

Marcus frowned. It still wasn't right, "I'm not sure, that still brings up many of the same problems..."

"Please," Henry insisted, turning around from the window. His face twisted into a pained grimace as he earnestly pleaded, "It's been nearly a decade. I shouldn't get to know my granddaughter through watching... newsreels. I- I don't..." he trailed off, reaching up a hand to clutch the salt-and-pepper beard that grew from his chin as he shook his head.

"If Indiana found out, he would kill me," Marcus said plaintively, "I would also be trusting her to keep a secret from her own father... i-it's just, it's just going to cause more pain down the road, Henry..." a pause, before Marcus lowered his eyebrows and asked, "Would just... going to your son and trying to work things out be such a terrible thing? He's not some... wild animal, Henry. I am sure he'll understand how you feel."

Henry paused, before answering with a question: "Can you do it, or not?"

Marcus reached up to rub his eyes, before leaning forward and steepling his hands on his desk, "Fine. Write a letter and I'll give it over."

Dear Anna Jones

I hope this letter finds you well. I am Henry Walton Jones, Senior, and your grandfather. The good Marcus Brody has taken the liberty of telling me much about you, including your origins in Panama, your personality, and your father's methods of child-rearing. I hear that you have learned Greek, Spanish, and that you know conversational German from one of your honorary Uncles. I remember teaching your father Greek personally, though in your circumstances it makes sense to have your tutor perform the task.

The purpose of this letter is to attempt to get into contact with you personally. As your father would likely not even read mail from me, I used Mr. Brody to reach you instead. I am a doctor of medieval literature, and am currently doing research into the lore of the Holy Grail - the famed cup of Jesus Christ. If you ever need to reach me, I live on 25 Pine Road, Ferndale, New York, USA. While I am not always there, as I travel the world consistently for my work, I maintain my mailing address there and will read and respond to any letters at my first convenience.

That being said, I am very curious to know you. Marcus has shared with me some of the footnotes that Dr. Johan Richter had made in his research, and I must say it is all very fascinating. I hear you are very interested in cartography and navigation, and that you are capable of flight. While I must say, it is far from my main passion, necessity and curiosity has driven me to learn some basic elements of mapmaking, particularly about how ancient methods of cartography are translated to modern survey maps. Despite your younger age, I am sure there are elements that you know of that you might be able to share with me so that we may indulge our mutual curiosities.

I would also like to inquire personally, if it is not too much of an overstep on my part, about the status of your home. I am quite familiar with the hardships of single parenting, and am curious as to how Junior is keeping up with his fathering of you.

I am looking forward to hearing back from you.

Best regards, your Grandfather, Henry Walton Jones Sr.

P.S. Considering I have missed every one of your birthdays since you were born, I would like to perform a bit of catch-up. If you could share with me some of your desires for gifts, I may be able to send you a parcel before your next birthday.

Anna furrowed her brow as she looked up from the letter, "...So if I wanted to respond, I'd have to do it secretly?"

"Er, well..." Marcus folded his hands in front of him as he leaned on the wall next to Anna, "I wouldn't want to pressure you. If you ever wanted to write him, you could just give me the letter and I'd mail it for you."

Anna turned back to the page and her mind went to her typewriter, sitting in her room upstairs. The guilt of doing something her father would be sore at her about hung over her head heavily, but at the same time...

If you could share with me some of your desires for gifts, I may be able to send you a parcel before your next birthday.

Anna smiled subtly. Maybe it was worth sending her Grandfather a letter?

Dear Henry Walton Jones, Sr.

Thank you for your letter. I've heard plenty of things about you from Uncle Marcus and my dad, but it's still nice to hear from you directly! You say you studied medieval literature. Last year Uncle Marcus introduced me to some classical literature from his old library. It was really hard to read but sort of interesting. I'm going to be sticking more to modern literature though. I'm a big fan of adventure and fantasy. I even put some of my father's adventures to paper.

Aside from reading, I like to fly around. A lot of people say that just the act of flying itself would be fun to them, but really it's pretty boring to me by now. Probably a result of having been doing it for as long as I can remember, but anyway. The funnest part of flying is just being able to, with a spare hour or so, fly all the way out of town to some remote part of the forest and poke around without fear of getting lost or stranded. I rarely lose my way, but even if I ever did I could just fly south until I reached the coast, then follow it until I found New Haven New York.

Dad tells me Jesus Christ probably wasn't actually the son of God, but it's cool that you're looking for his cup anyway. How much do you think something like that would be worth? I mean they built entire churches around Jesus's handkerchiefs and shoes, so probably a lot of money! What's Ferndale like? I've been to New York City a bunch of times, but I know Ferndale is upstate quite a bit. Near Barnett College, right? I'd like to hear more about your home town!

As for Dad. He's a great Dad. He hired a private tutor so that I didn't have to go to public school, cause he said the other kids would bully me. I think that's fair enough, aside from my friends all the other kids my age just spread rumors about me around the block. He teaches me all kinds of stuff, like how to use a bullwhip, how to tie knots and live out in the wilderness! This past summer, he started to give me lessons on how to shoot. He even bought me a little pocket pistol that I keep in my drawer in case anybody ever breaks into the house. They call it a pocket pistol, but it's really just my size.

Hope to hear back from you too!

Sincerely, Anna Jones

P.S.: My request for a gift would be a compass. Something really nice and hardy, with a protective case. The last one I was given got smashed really easily.

Dear Anna Jones

I thank you for your timely response. Fortunately, the postal service can at least be relied upon to move between Bedford and Ferndale with good speed. I have had times in the past where letters would be delayed by months due to needing to move through third world postage systems. Heaven forbid I ever send anything with even the vaguest value from the Middle East, either.

Regardless, I ramble. It is good to hear that your education is varied and active. It is good to keep a measure of health with regular physical activities, especially for the young and the academic. Too often have I seen brilliant minds fall ill to ailing health and unsound bodies. What is your curriculum like? I assume there are home and social studies included along with language and the sciences? Do you have any extracurriculars planned out that meet your desired plans? I hear women of strong education now sometimes plan around going into a lifelong career, though I dare not presume anything about you.

Ferndale is a very nice, small, quiet town. There is a nearby park, some eateries, and a few houses. However Barnett College is actually in Fairview, which is just a few miles north of here. I used to teach actively at Princeton, but now I am in full-time field work instead. So, the remote location serves just as a place to keep my mailing address and to retreat to after a long journey overseas. It helps that it's so close to New York City, which is usually my gateway back into the United States after my trips to Europe and Africa.

I visited Bedford when penning my original letter. It is a very nice community. I have always preferred the feeling of small-to-medium sized college towns, especially in the New England area. I am a native of Princeton, New Jersey, and so is your father. I didn't get a chance to visit your actual home, though. What is it like? Comfortable, I would assume?

I found your desired gift from a very respectable source. It took a while to ship, which is why I delayed this letter for so long. I hope it is to your liking and that it may brighten up your Christmas. I hope to be able to write you again before your birthday next year. After that, I will be out of the house for an extended period and will be unable to answer your mail. It will be a trip to the University of Sapienza - a risky travel at this time what with all those Godless Fascists crawling over that part of Europe, but it is unfortunately a necessary part of the job.

I will attempt to bring you something back. I feel like a simple piece of navigational equipment is not an expensive enough gift to warrant giving to you. Tell me a bit about some of your other interests. Do you have any hobbies aside from wilderness treks and literature?

Regards, Henry Walton Jones, Sr.

Indiana Jones was nose-deep in a book as snow pelted him. Walking up the steps to his home, he unlocked and opened the door, moving his body to shuffle in sideways so that his book didn't knock against the sides of the door as he walked inside.

Anna was waiting for him within, lounging on a chair by the window booth in the kitchen as lasagna cooked in the oven. She perked up as he emerged from around the corner, having kicked off his snow-covered boots and hung his hat up. Looking up from his research for a single spare moment, he reached into his coat and pulled out a paper-wrapped package.

"Marcus said this was for you," Indiana muttered distractedly, "Said he found it at a market sale or something..."

Anna took it, ripping it open to reveal a cardboard box. With a butterknife, she pried the tape off of the lid of the box and opened it, extracting a small, palm-sized wooden box that smelled of fresh polish and varnish. Licking her lips, a grin formed on her face as she opened it and revealed the compass nestled within. Its needle pointed straight and true to north... assumedly. She would need to take it up above the clouds soon to compare it to the sun.

"Hey, Dad, loo-" Anna began, turning around, only to find her father had already disappeared up the stairs.

With a sigh and a quick roll of her eyes, she looked blankly back down into the library book she was reading, already thinking about her next letter.

Dear Henry Walton Jones, Sr.

Dr Hanley, who is the local general practitioner who took over when my Uncle Johan went back to Germany, says that I am very fit. Possibly stronger than other girls my age, but I still get trounced by my father when it comes to arm-wrestling. Tommy still can outrun me as well if I don't try and fly. I don't learn anything really about domestics, but Uncle Rich taught me how to cook (Dad's really bad at cooking, so really it's a blessing that I can cook my own meals). My friends, who are all boys, learn things like woodworking and mechanical stuff. My extracurriculars are things like language and shooting, like I mentioned before.

I dunno really what I'm going to do when I grow up. Mr Sanders tells me that girls usually look forward to marrying somebody and having a family, but unless they find more people of my species I'm not gonna have very good luck with that. I think when I get old enough I'm going to try and become an archaeologist like my father. If not, I'll probably try and become a writer, but everyone says it's really hard to make money off of being a writer so I'm not really sure. Even after the Crash and everything, Dad seems to make enough money to go on trips and pay for all kinds of things for the house so it seems pretty financially viable.

Speaking of my house, it's real nice. It's got two floors and a garage. We have a gas pipeline for central heating, but we also got a fireplace which is nice and cozy after you've been out rolling around in the snow. We had to put in a rubber mat and towels next to the fireplace because whenever I warm myself up, there's inevitably snow caught somewhere in my coat that just runs off all over the carpet. Dad's very proud of some of the modern appliances we got. We have a washing machine, a refrigerator, telephone, radio. We actually just replaced our radio with a newer model, which has a lot less static and is smaller.

My Dad's really worried about the fascists. Apparently they sponsored one of his old enemies, Belloq. I only vaguely remember him from around ten years ago, when he tried to kidnap me aboard a ship. I still get nightmares about that ship, but apparently the guy I keep dreaming about isn't Belloq. Anyway, I saw in a newsreel that they elected someone who is a Fascist in Germany. Uncle Johan wrote me and told me that they're going to fix the economy or something.

I do have other hobbies. I really like Baseball. Sometimes we go out to games of it locally, or go all the way out to New York. I'm also a big fan of birdwatching. My Uncle Johan really got me into it before he left. I've been watching this flock of ducks on the nearby lake for a while now and feeding them when I can. Apparently it's really bad to feed them bread! I feed them grapes and corn instead, I think they're starting to like me. They come towards me when I land.

Regards, Anna Jones

Dear Anna Jones,

Archaeology is certainly a very ambitious path for yourself to pursue. I am in no means in discouragement of it, but I must state a few facts. Firstly, it is exceptionally hard for women to excel to the same levels of academic proficiency. The journal articles on studying you have given no real insights to any biological and psychological differences you might have to human women, but they are generally biologically unsuited towards intellectual work. They are tooled towards being caring, nurturing, and emotional, which is generally incompatible with intense academic work.

Secondly, even if you may be different on a fundamental level from a human woman, I am afraid the institutions will be stacked against you on a principle. Heavy scrutiny will be placed upon work and I fear that even though your circumstances may exempt you from many of the reasons the fairer sex does not engage with academia, that administrators and peers will not see it that way. My wife so much as being in attendance during my lecture tours would sometimes be treated as an outlandish thing.

That being said, there are examples of women breaking into archaeological fields already. I believe in Sweden, a woman managed to hold her ground and obtained her doctorate. So, I know it is not by any measure impossible. You have already defied expectations when that court case was won in your favor to earn you citizenship. Perhaps you may be so fortuitous as to do so again. Just allow me to warn you that this may be an endeavor that must be hard-won and fought for, with extra hard work and diligence!

Now, I hope I will not have put you off with my rather negative first paragraphs. I must clarify that I mean only the best for you, but that I am above all a pessimist when it comes down to it. I am actually glad that you mention cooking, though. One of my friends in Italy is a conservator of rare and obscure texts from antiquity. He wrote me to say that he was restoring an old Roman cookbook! Perhaps they will have something that is free of meat that you can use? I will try and secure a copy while I am there.

I find birds interesting, but have never pursued them in any scientific sense. Though, while pondering your letter, I think more and more on birds as they fly. I can quite understand the appeal of being able to fly, though not just for the fun of moving fast through the air. I find myself jealous of the ability to just fly away and isolate oneself amongst the wilderness, or to spontaneously travel. We humans find ourselves chained to the ground, needing to pack, drive, walk, and take trains to our destinations with all kinds of hubbub. Perhaps I would visit my old friends in Princeton more often if I could make the journey as the crow flies.

I would warn you against Fascist rhetoric. It is the fancy new ideology these days, popular with all the kids who haven't had the life experience to resist its wiles. When I was young, Communism was in Fascism's place. Both equally godless, feckless pseudo-religions made by men who lost their connections with God and their conscience long ago. Don't allow yourself to fall prey to their lies, Anna.

I should be back by summer this year. Perhaps I may write to you earlier than then from Italy, though I will be unable to read your response until I am back home to check up on my mail.

Regards, Henry Walton Jones, Sr

For: Anna

Note, I wasn't sure if you had learned either Latin or Italian. I was given the choice between an Italian and Latin translation of the book, so I chose Latin as it was the more respectable language in my opinion. In case you need to learn, I included a dictionary and translation guide.

My tickets are finalized and I will be returning home on the 13th of July.

Indiana bit down on his breakfast, a mixture of confusion and unique taste swirling in his mouth. Before him was a dish of egg with some sort of smokey, earthy sauce spread all across it that tasted of nuts. Licking his lips, he looked curiously over to Anna, who was casually writing down notes on her father's latest adventure.

"Where'd you get this?" Indiana asked, poking his meal with his fork.

"Huh?" Anna looked up, "Oh. Uncle Marcus gave me a cookbook of old Roman recipes."

"You know Latin now?" Indiana asked, blinking a few times.

Anna shook her head, "No, that's why he gave me a translation manual. I kinda had to just go page by page and translate everything."

Indiana forehead smoothened as he nodded to himself. It was definitely like Marcus to give Anna a version of the book that hadn't been translated into English. He went back to eating, giving a hum as his taste buds slowly adjusted and found the dish palatable (this was not a hard feat by any measure, as Indy commonly contented himself with eating the seediest street food during his travels).

"Anyway, you were saying something about the Philosopher's Stone?" Anna asked, licking her lips as she continued to scrawl on the page.

"Right..." Indiana said around his mouthful, swallowing before continuing, "So, we landed in the Honduras-"

Dear Henry Walton Jones, Sr

I used the translation guide to just put the book into English, so that it would be easier to read. Thanks! Dad seemed to like the From the Egg to the Fruit. I dunno why they called it that considering it's basically just boiled eggs with a unique sauce. Still, it's pretty nice.

It's pretty funny that you came back home when you did. Dad was only a few weeks ahead of you and he left all the way back in January. He was out in Honduras and Libya for some more fieldwork. I'm gonna write all about it in Indiana Jones and the Philosopher's Stone. He brought me back a nice kite, though for some reason I think he got it in New York rather than overseas since it's rather normal. Still, I like kites quite a bit. You can really get an extra dimension of use out of them while flying around, rather than just using them from the ground like humans do.

This summer I'm being taught how to use a rifle rather than just a handgun. This time I didn't get my own rifle, though. He says that he only got me a handgun because it was just supposed to be for me to defend myself with. After a scare I had with some hikers the other day in the woods, he got me a custom-built belt that has a holster for my gun, since my normal belt is at my waist and is at a really awkward angle to draw from unless I'm flying.

I really don't like shooting, though. Guns are really loud and I'm not a very good shot. Dad says that that will mend with time, though.

Regards, Anna Jones

Dear Anna Jones

It is good to see a letter from you waiting as I settle back into my home. I am very fascinated to hear about the stories your father has told you. I did see a newspaper article with his name in it, though it wasn't for any sorts of archaeological find of such mythical importance. Instead, it talked about him being a grave robber. I understand the media can sometimes exaggerate things, but I somehow doubt that he found something as mythical as a magical alchemical stone.

Regardless, I am also glad to see that you enjoyed what I sent you from Italy, though I felt it ended up being more of a homework assignment than a real gift! I will try and get you something before the year is out. I know your clothes are all custom-tailored by your adoptive uncles and your father, so I will have to think of something else a bit more physical. Do you own your own copy of the world atlas?

It makes me concerned that your father was absent for such a long period. Who takes care of you while he is gone? In other news, I suppose I am unsurprised that he has chosen to educate you in the art of defense and violence. He was always a bit of a cowboy, and I suppose he may know a thing or two about gun-fighting considering his status as a veteran. Just try not to get too carried away. If there is any influence I should impart upon you, it should be that I ensure you do not run off to join a war.

If you may send me a draft of your novelization, I would be most interested in reading it. I am not educated in any respect on the fine points of literature, but I may give you my best feedback on its various qualities. No matter the quality, I would be absolutely delighted to see any work my granddaughter has produced.

Regards, Henry Walton Jones, Sr

Dear Henry Walton Jones, Sr

A lot of people say they don't believe my father's tall tales. I've already written a bunch of stuff about how he went to kill Dracula, about him finding the interior world, finding dinosaur eggs, and all kinds of things. I believe every single one of them is true, cause my dad's got the scars and stories to prove every single one of them. I just really hope one day I can go with him. He keeps telling me that maybe he'll let me when I'm older, but I'm fourteen now. Biologically, I'm fifteen, even!

Still, it's sad that he misses a lot of Christmases and birthdays. He promises he'll be around for my next birthday, though. He has some work scheduled near then in China, but he says that it'll be happening in February. Usually all of his adventures are spontaneous, so him saying it's scheduled really makes me think he won't miss this one.

I'll have Uncle Marcus carry some of my old work over. I didn't include the one about the interior world, since I wrote it when I was nine and it is yuck! I gave you my two most recent ones, the one on Dracula and the dinosaur eggs. The one on the Philosopher's Stone is still being written. These things take time, and a lot of ink and paper. Seriously, one time I felt my forehooves tingling because of all the vibrations from my typewriter going off!

Anyway, have a good Christmas, Grandpa! Hope you like my books! See you next year!

Regards, Anna Jones.

Author's Note

IT'S TEMPLE OF DOOM TIME BABY LET'S GO WOOOOOOOOO

GET HYPED

I am personally very, very excited.

24: Shanghai, 1935

When Indiana Jones came through the front door of the house that day, Anna could instantly tell what was happening. He was wild-eyed, had a subtle smile on his face, and darted immediately for the stairs after offering a quick, "Hi!" as he clambered past and up the stairs.

Anna looked away from her language homework up towards her father as he scaled the stairs, "So. What's the big expedition for this time?"

"Big payday, Anna. Private collector from Shanghai wants his hands on some ancient remains. If I can get it for him, we're talking numbers like a hundred thousand dollars!" he said as he reached his study door.

Anna bookmarked her homework and closed it, "Private collector? You mean Lao Che?"

"How did you-" Indiana's keys jangled in the lock of his study door, only for him to twist the knob and find out that he'd re-locked it, "...Anna why is my study unlocked?"

"Um..." Anna blushed and looked away, "...No reason. You uh, must've forgot to lock it."

The door was unlocked again and tossed open as Indiana walked inside and rifled through his drawers, "...Right, sure. I'll call Marcus and have him take you for a month or two. I'll write you if it takes any longer."

Anna's eyes widened, "Hey! Wait- didn't you- you aren't meant to be going for that for another month!"

"I was going to go to Shanghai to reach out to him, once I could get a flight out with Panam. He reached out to me instead now, so I'm going to go early and take a private flight with Jock," he said, voice raised from upstairs.

Anna sighed as she looked back to her homework. Indiana had made her study a few foreign languages. From her correspondence with her grandfather, when it came to her family it apparently wasn't odd for weird, obscure languages to be passed down from father to son... and now father to daughter. She could understand learning Greek, as it was necessary to be respected in high academia. She had been less passionate about Spanish, but now she was forced to study stuff like Hindi, Latin, Mandarin? It was just a lot of work to clutter up her time indoors over winter, and it'd been going on for the last several years, every summer and winter. When was he gonna be satisfied that she could speak enough weird languages?

"...Dad. You're gonna miss my birthday... you did that last year," she said mournfully as Indiana walked back down the stairs.

Indiana reached over and ruffled her mane as he walked by, "Sorry, sweetie. I'll make it up to you as soon as I'm back. I promise."

Anna just took another sigh and remained silent, passively watching him as he spun the dial on the telephone resting by the radio in the lounge. Eventually, a voice came scratchily through the receiver, a voice she recognized as belonging to Marcus Brody.

"Yeah, hi, Marcus?" Indiana said into the receiver, "Yeah. I got that offer, from Che. Gonna have to leave for a few months, can you take care of-" he paused as barely audible, staticky words came over the speaker, "...What do you mean? Across Europe? Well can she come with you? Well yeah I know it'd not be that interesting... all she has is homework right now. She can catch up on that after the semester begins, her school schedules' flexible. Yeah, okay. Sure, I'll tell her that, bye."

Anna looked up as Indiana hung up and turned around with a frown, "Marcus is gonna leave the States," he said, "You're gonna need to pack up and head to his place to go with him to New York to go to Europe first thing tomorrow at around eight o' clock. He needs to meet at a bunch of conferences there."

Anna's heart fell again, her ears immediately flattening and wings drooping as she groaned, "Dad! That's gonna be the worst! His trips only ever go to the most boring places on the planet!"

"Well I'm sorry but you can't stay with the Morrisons, they'll be gone for another month on their vacation and Johan's still in Germany," Indiana explained, walking through the dining room and back towards the stairs, "I don't trust anyone else with you."

"You could just bring me with you," Anna quirked an eyebrow, eyes tracking him as he walked past, "I'm fifteen you know, I can take care of myself!"

"No," Indiana immediately answered, "Of course not. It's too dangerous."

Anna humphed and crossed her forelegs, looking away and out the window at the snowy yard and street out the front of the Jones property. She felt saddened, robbed, and massively disappointed... but the most she felt was enraged. Her father had always had his leaves of absences, and most of the time she could understand, and at least she could still be around to hang around with her friends and be in her hometown. But, the idea of not only missing her birthday, packing up that very night, ruining all of her plans, and going on a several month-long trek through Europe with stuffy old Uncle Marcus and attending a bunch of dumb lectures... it was just so unfair!

Anna's anger built until her hooves quivered. Raising her hoof, she slammed the table loud enough to catch her father's eye again. Then, as soon as she knew her act of defiance was being observed, she grabbed her book and threw it directly through the window, the smashing of glass resounding through the house just as loudly as her scream of frustration. Then, before Indiana could say anything else, she flew out of her chair, shot past him up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door behind her.

Indiana Jones paused, standing at the bottom of the stairs, his coiled whip in one hand and belt and holster in the other. He stared up the stairs after his daughter, and turned to look at the shattered front window. His heart sunk as he began to hear sobs coming from behind the door. Lips drawn into a thin line, he sighed, "...Damn."

The next morning came, and Indiana trekked up the stairs. Pancakes were steaming on a plate in the kitchen, lathered with plenty of syrup and even some whipped cream and berries. He'd wanted to make her an extra special breakfast while he packed for her, as a form of apology. Knocking on the door, he called out to her.

"Anna! Come out, I made breakfast for you. I'm sorry about last night, okay? It really sucks, and I agree. If there was a better alternative, I'd let you have it in a heartbeat!" he called.

There was no answer. Putting his ear to the door, he didn't even hear her stir in her bedsheets. With a frown, he reached down and turned the knob on the door. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked and swung open on its own.

Anna's bedroom was well lived in, having evolved many times over the years since its origin as a drafty, empty section of the house eight years ago. She had her own writing desk in one corner, where a half-typed up note sat in the typewriter, with a stack of finished papers sitting in a binder next to it. Tons of balled up scraps of paper sat in and next to the wastebin right next to the desk. A bookshelf was filled with various books, mostly her textbooks, but also things like dictionaries, a thesaurus, a few fictional storybooks, and even two books that Anna wrote that Indy had binded for her.

Several of Anna's model vehicles hung from the ceiling and sat on shelves nearby it. A map of the world, torn and worn from its years of use, had been continually marked with crayon and later pen, names of Indiana's various expeditions scrawled all over it. Next to it, Anna's growing array of family photographs were hanging from the walls. There was even a recent oil portrait of Anna and Indiana, bringing out their colors against the other black and white photos. Litter, discarded clothes, and spilled items covered the floor, making it hard for anyone who depended on walking on the ground to navigate effectively. He really had to be more strict on her about cleaning up... but it was hard enough on her already that he was asking her to learn a bunch of languages that nobody around her spoke.

There was a wardrobe, door half-closed and revealing a travesty of disorganized clothes sitting around inside. Next to it, a bureau was in a similar state, with underwear and personal items hanging out of half-closed, jammed drawers. A few feet away, a window looked out over into the Morrison's yard, with a bed sitting just below it. The bed was messy and unmade, covered with pink-and-white striped sheets with a set of two pillows for head support. The bed would usually only be comfortable for a child, and not a teenager, but Anna was small enough to still feel comfortable on it even though she was 16 now.

The only thing that was missing from Anna's bedroom, was Anna herself.

"...Anna?" Indiana shouted, peeking inside and checking the ceiling and behind the door, "...ANNA!?"

Indiana checked the bathroom, the study, his own room, the basement, the attic, the neighbor's houses, and then checked everywhere again in the same order. Eventually, with his hands on his hips, he muttered to himself: "Not again."

After almost an hour of searching later, Indiana rushed back downstairs, past the cold pancakes sitting on the kitchen counter, and to the home phone. Wiping sweat from his brow, he dialed the operator, "Operator? I need the police, please."

Without even answering, the operator connected his call, and eventually a gruff voice responded, "Bedford police department."

"Hi," Indiana sighed shakily, "I'd like to report a missing child. My daughter was really upset last night, and I think she might've run away from home. I've checked everywhere in my house and in the neighbors'. Could you send an officer, please?"

"Of course," the voice responded, "Name and address?"

"Ind-" Indiana stopped himself, "...Henry Walton Jones, Junior. 38 Sandfield Drive."

After hanging up with the police, Indiana leaned onto the phone desk and focused. He thought quickly over all the places she might've gone. This time, he didn't have the luxury of knowing exactly where she would want to run off to. If she was just upset, she could've flown almost anywhere. Her pocket change was still sitting in a coinpurse in her bedside table, so it wasn't like she was flying somewhere to patronize a restaurant. For all he knew, she could be sitting on a cloud somewhere over the sea, brooding or crying her little heart out.

Indiana began to pace back and forth in the living room. An idea popped into his mind, and he immediately turned back around and dialed for Marcus's house. Eventually, he picked up, "Marcus Brody speaking."

"Hi. It's Indy," Indiana said, trying to make his voice sound less nervous as he really was, "Is uh, is Anna there?"

"No, weren't you meant to drop her off in an hour?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah well- I would, but she's uh. She's missing," Indiana tapped his foot rapidly on the floorboards.

"Oh, dear. What happened? Did someone break in?" Marcus questioned.

Indiana shook his head, "No. I think she ran away. She wasn't really happy about me missing her birthday and having to go with you to Europe," he sighed, "I have half a mind to just cancel the stupid contract with Lao and stay."

Marcus chuckled nervously, "...Er, Indy. Isn't Lao a mob boss?"

"Yeah well-" Indy stopped and thought.

"Wouldn't it be a bad idea to back out of a deal with a ringleader like that?" Marcus intoned gently, "I'm not saying don't do it, but I'm saying... consider the risks for a moment."

Indiana thought of the idea of attracting a hitman to his house, and the exact implications that would have for him and his family, "I am considering."

"Well, Indy, I really should continue packing," the phone crackled as he continued, "I really must leave in the next hour, if I miss the train I miss the boat. Keep me informed. Ta-ta!"

"Goodbye," Indiana said, sighing as he placed the receiver back on the hook.

The sound of a siren approaching his house knocked him out of his reverie. He looked up at the clock. 7:30 AM, at 8:30 Marcus would be leaving. It'd take about eleven minutes to get to Marcus's place if he stepped on it. At this point, though, it wasn't his major concern. His major concern was getting Anna back home safely. Worse came to worse, she could stay home... although he dreaded to imagine the state he'd find when he came back.

Opening the door, he greeted the policeman on the steps of his front door, "Morning, Officer," Indiana tried to manage a smile.

"Henry Jones, is it?" the officer stuck out a hand with a smile through his bushy moustache.

Indiana nodded, "That's my given name," shaking the cop's hand and reaching up to scratch the side of his head, he continued, "I'm uh, I'm really embarrassed about all of this. The only other time she snuck out was to go visit her friends at camp. This is the first time I've had to call the police about this kind of stuff..."

"It's quite alright, sir. We do stuff like this all the time. I'll just collect your statement and a description of your... daughter, was it?" the officer paused.

"Yeah. Her name's Anna."

The officer stepped forward slightly, "Mind if I come in? It's awfully cold out here."

"Yeah," he stepped aside, letting the officer in.

"Got a wife, Mr. Jones?" the officer asked as he walked inside, taking off his cap and taking off his boots to not track snow inside.

Indiana shook his head as he walked over to the kitchen, sparing a regretful glance towards the pancakes, "No, uh. I adopted her, I've never been married."

The officer quirked an eyebrow as he noticed a draft from the kitchen window, which had been patched up with a bunch of cardboard and tape, "Baseball through the window?"

"Well, er... no, she threw a book through the window when she got angry with me," Indiana sighed, "I think the reason she ran away is cause I need to go on a business trip, and I'll miss her birthday and she needs to go with her uncle to Europe and..." he paused as he realized he was rambling. It was unlike him, most of the time he made an effort not to be obtuse with his words with other adults.

The officer, nevertheless, nodded understandingly, "Okay. What's she look like?"

Indiana smacked his lips, "Well... uh. She's, uh... she's about three and three quarters tall, almost four foot," he put a hand level near his stomach as an indicator, "She got a golden coat, black-and-white hair, and rose-colored eyes."

The officer stared at him with a raised eyebrow, pencil hovering over a pad of notes.

Indiana gave a frustrated sigh, "Didn't you see the news? Did all the buzz about a new form of intelligent life die down already?"

"Well, I-" the officer frowned.

"You must be new or something," Indiana placed his hands on his hips, "They send the rookies out for this kind of thing?"

"I um- well, I suppose-" the officer stuttered, before his eyebrows lowered over his eyes and he looked down to his notes, "When do you think she ran off?"

"Sometime before seven this morning, that's when I went to wake her up," Indiana sighed, turning around and placing his hand on the back of his head as his mind swam with worry.

"How old is she?" the cop asked.

"Fourteen. Fifteen in a few weeks" Indiana answered.

The cop, fortunately, just wrote down the information before nodding to himself, "Well. I suppose this explains why the chief said Bedford has some strange residents..." he nodded, "We'll keep our eyes out, Mr. Jones. You have a home phone, so just call us if she shows up back home naturally. Most kids ten and older come back on their own naturally if they go missing, and teenagers ain't usually the target of many kidnappings like this. Don't worry yourself too much, Mr. Jones."

Indiana frowned as the thought of kidnapping came into his mind, and how easy it might be to get Anna into the back of a van or track if she wasn't paying attention... and how much she'd historically been vulnerable to such things. Regardless, he put on a brave face as he turned around and nodded to the officer, "Thanks. I'll try."

The cop smiled as he turned back for the door, grabbing his cap and putting his boots back on, "I'd love to stay and chat, Mr. Jones, but I've got work to do."

Indiana waved the cop off as he drove back down the street in his cruiser. Almost immediately after the policeman was back safely out of sight, Indiana ran back inside, donned a winter jacket, put on his belt and holster, loaded his revolver, coiled his whip, and grabbed his fedora from the hatrack as he went back outside. Locking the door behind him, he climbed in his car and blasted the engine as he rolled off his driveway.

Indiana checked his watch as he pulled away from another street corner he knew she liked to frequent. It was already 12:00. Marcus was long gone (the old man had even offered to take a slightly later train just in case), but there was still no sign of Anna. In his rush to start searching everywhere for Anna, he'd forgotten his wallet, and lacked the change to pay for a payphone to try and ring his home to see if she'd come home since he left. He'd go home to recuperate, grab more stuff, finally eat a meal, and then head back out to the town again. He'd scour every single street in Bedford, and after that...

Indiana gritted his teeth as he blasted by a stop sign, trying not to think about what would happen next.

After a half hour of driving, with a quick pit stop at a local diner Anna had tried once, he continued back to Petunia Drive. His home came over in his windscreen, and his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel relaxed as he pulled back into his driveway, stopping the engine and pulling up the parking brake. Climbing out, he walked briskly to the front door and pulled out his keys, stomping inside and kicking off his boots.

He instantly paused as he looked at the counter. The pancakes were no longer there, and the oven had been switched on. Its door hung open and it still radiated heat. He shouted into the house, "ANNA!?"

A voice from right beside him mumbled, "I'm right here, Dad."

Indiana's neck shot to his side so fast that he could have broken it and a wave of relief instantly washed over him. Anna was sitting there, done up in a full parka and thick trousers, with a half eaten stack of gluggy pancakes, on the couch. Swallowing her bite of pancakes, she nodded towards the shattered window, "I crawled back in through the window. I knocked all the broken glass out of the way first, don't worry."

Sure enough, when Indiana checked, the lower pane of the kitchen window had its cardboard fitting removed, and the sharp glass shards around it kicked out onto the floor. Turning back towards Anna, unbidden anger boiled in his heart, "Don't you EVER do that again! You had everyone worried sick for you! I thought somebody had broken in and stolen you away in the night!!!" an angry finger pointed towards his daughter.

Anna flinched slightly, but shifted in her seat into a more defensive position and flourished her nose, "Well, Dad. While I was up hiding in the clouds, I saw Marcus leave for his trip already. So, I think I'm in a position to bargain."

"Bargain!?" Indiana said incredulously, stepping out of the way of the door, and slamming it shut behind him.

Anna flinched again, and her voice shook, "W-Well... there's n-nobody you trust to supervise me now. So uhh... I can stay home and wreck the place, o-or..." her voice grew small as she shuffled backwards against the arm of the couch, "Or I could go with you..."

Indiana blinked, his rage turning into a mix of still-present anger and confusion.

Anna frowned, "Well, darnit Dad. What're you gonna do? Ground me? It's still better than going to Europe. And you know you can't be here to enforce the grounding unless you cancel your trip, in which case you still are here for my birthday. Just let me go with you! I want to go on one of your adventures! I've been reading the Mandarin textbooks just like you asked! It'd be a good place to practice!"

The memories of how regretful he was to demand she give up so much just so he could go on his expedition came up and brought his boiling rage down into a tiny, scalding hiss. The only thing he had left to be angry about... was just how right she was. Still, he protested, "Anna. Lao Che is a dangerous mobster. Since you obviously rifled through my post, you'd know that. I'd be mad to bring you to where he could reach and hurt you."

"Okay? Then don't bring me to Lao Che. You're looking for some ashes, right? Just bring me along for that and leave me in the hotel room when you need to go do the gangster stuff," Anna suggested, her confidence returning as Indiana simmered down.

Indiana seriously considered his options, standing in the entryway with the snow slowly melting off of his hat. The safest option, by far, was backing out of his deal as early as possible. It was completely likely that the mobsters would just find a different person to take the job and leave him alone. However, this was just such a big opportunity...

...Well, all of his adventures were big opportunities, but this one was particularly big.

A deal for a treasure he'd been searching for for over a decade. A prize that had just barely escaped his grasp. Anna was old enough to take care of herself at home, right? Abner left Marion alone in her tent when she was just 12 years old, surely-

He mentally slapped himself. Who was he fooling? Anna had him right where she wanted him, trapped between his desire to chase glory and the small but vocal part of his brain that needed him to make sure she was happy. He heaved a deep sigh, reaching up to his hat and hanging it on the hook next to the door.

"This isn't going to be a vacation, Anna," Indiana said sternly, though his words immediately brought light to Anna's eyes and a grin to her face, "You will do everything I say and stay out of trouble. No flying around, no getting lost, no exploring around, no talking to anyone, no nothing, you hear?"

"Cross my heart! Hope to die!" Anna immediately promised, making the correct motion as she leapt up from the couch, plate and cutlery rattling from the vibrations of her movement.

"Pack up your stuff, and I'll pack your gun and whip. Only pack the essentials, clothes, a few books to read, and your mandarin textbook. Okay?" Indiana finished.

Anna grinned and saluted, jumping into flight and zooming back up the stairs.

Indiana squinted as he heard the sounds of rustling and packing from upstairs. He had a feeling that this was either the best or the very worst decision he'd had to make in his life.

"Cèsuǒ zài nǎlǐ," Indiana intoned.

"Cèsuǒ zài nǎlǐ!" Anna repeated.

"You're putting too much emphasis on zài, there's small stuff like that that makes the difference between gibberish and actual Mandarin. Try again," Indiana requested, repeating the phrase as he stroked a finger across the page of the Chinese dictionary, "Cèsuǒ zài nǎlǐ."

Anna scrunched muzzle, and slowly repeated, "Cèsuǒ zài nǎlǐ."

"Eh," Indiana sighed, closing the dictionary, "That's okay for now. You'll probably be able to get better at the pronunciation once you start hearing other people speaking. I'm gonna take a nap," Indiana declared as he leaned back into his seat, pulling his fedora over his head, "Wake me up once we're in Shanghai."

The cabin of the airplane rumbled as it zipped through the sky, clouds floating on past through the windows. Anna unbuckled her seatbelt, looking out one of the windows as she pondered for a moment. She'd never been in an airplane before, with air routes between America and the other continents being fairly new-fangled and always neglected in favor of slower but more dependable sea travel. While she thought it'd be boring to be flying without feeling the wind rustling through her wings, she honestly felt more like she was in the belly of some huge, majestic beast. She found it rather fascinating.

Checking on her father again, Anna found him already snoozing. She found herself slightly jealous of his ability to sleep so quickly, but reminded herself that it was probably an acquired skill. Despite the fact they hadn't slept all that well at their last refueling spot, she didn't feel like going to sleep just yet. Getting up from her seat, she began to look around the cabin.

They'd been flying in the same plane ever since leaving from San Francisco a day or so ago, and aside from the fueling stops their travel had been mostly uninterrupted. Their bags sat behind their two seats, in the midst of an otherwise coldly empty cargo bay. A few rows of aged, ragged seats with torn cushioning and stained upholstery sat along the left side of the airplane. Along the opposite wall was a large hatch, used for, according to her father, skydiving and airdrops.

Anna herself wore clothes that were rather similar to her father's. A beige shirt, trousers with a hole cut through to feed her tail through, a belt to keep her trousers from falling down, an empty holster on her right hip, and a buckle on her left hip for her whip... which she also wasn't "allowed" to have until they were landed. Really, the only things she was missing from her father's outfit was his brown leather jacket and fedora... and his shoes, but she'd gotten more than used to using her bare hooves over her life. Uncle Johan had recommended she not use shoes unless necessary, as placing wear on her hooves made them easier to maintain as long as she wasn't carrying too much weight while hiking.

Turning around, Anna looked at the cockpit door. It was left ajar, and the shadow of the pilot (a man she had been briefly introduced to as Jock Lindsey) sat at the controls. Walking up, she nudged the door open and looked up at him.

An array of controls, dials, buttons, and switches were laid out in front of them. Over the dashboard a windshield looked out over an endless expanse of clouds, and below them the endless expanse of ocean. Eventually, the pilot turned his head towards Anna, "Oy? Something wrong?"

"Uh... no," Anna pawed at the ground a bit, "How's the uh... how's the plane?"

Jock leaned on his armrest, "It's good. On long haul stuff like this, the plane basically flies itself. Just need to make sure the compass is stayin' still and the blue side's up."

"Oh," Anna nodded slowly, "What do all those things do?" she pointed at the panels of instruments, levers, and switches.

Jock grinned, "Wanna see it up close?" he patted the seat of the chair to his right, "I'll show ya, don't worry, if you touch anything we'll just go into a tailspin and explode."

Anna was mostly sure he was joking, and thus simply rolled her eyes as she walked up the two steps leading into the cockpit and awkwardly maneuvered herself into the seat, as the ceiling was too low to simply do a flight-assisted hop over the armrests. Elevated high enough by the chair, Anna could see the nose of the plane, and the two engines roaring to her left and right.

"Doc Jones tells me you can fly on those wings?" Jock questioned, regarding her wings curiously.

Anna nodded, "Just not this fast. But this isn't the first time I've been high up."

"I wish I 'ad wings," Jock gave a toothy smile as he put his hands on the strange steering wheel in front of him, "I get by just fine with planes though."

Anna nodded, before looking back at the dashboard in front of her, "So..." she trailed off, wiggling a hoof towards the gauges in front of her.

"Ya ever driven a car before?" Jock asked. When Anna shrugged, he continued, "Well it's kinda like that, just a bit more complicated. You turn this big thing, called the Yoke, left and right, and it makes flaps move left and right to make the plane turn."

Anna flexed her wings slightly as she looked forward, imagining how she did it herself, before nodding, "Makes sense. I had to learn to not throw my weight left and right to steer in the air. My feathers did the steering for me."

"Can't bank too hard or you start stalling or spinning," Jock concurred, before pointing out a few of the gauges, "That's fuel. That's our altitude. That's our airspeed. That's an artificial horizon-"

"What's an artificial horizon?" Anna asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Jock rubbed his nose, "Ah. It uh, it tells me which way is up. Trust me, it can get pretty confusing if you get into clouds or fog. You gotta learn to trust your instruments over your instincts if you're gonna fly..." he eyed her wings again, "...Though you probably have extra instincts that humans don't have when it comes to flight."

Anna nodded dumbly, before reaching for a random lever on the dashboard, "What's that do?"

Jock slapped her hoof before it reached it, "Yeah, don't touch that, mate. That's the fuel dump. You only use that if your engines are on fire or you need to shed weight for an emergency landing."

"Oh," Anna retracted her hoof, "Sorry."

"No biggie," Jock continued, pointing down at the other levers and switches, "That's the throttle. It's kinda like a car's accelerator, except it directly controls the engine's speed rather than just asking the engine to start spinning faster and faster until it maxes out. These two levers here change the fuel mix- they don't really matter in most cases. And there's other things here. Oh yeah-" he pointed to a large console between the two seats, "That's the radio. You use it to talk to other planes or down to the ground. Hey-" Jock turned to point a finger at Anna, "If I'm passed out and your father's out of action, or if you're ever on a plane and something's wrong. This is what you do: you set this knob," he pointed to a knob marked FREQ "To 121.5. Remember that? One-two-one point five. Then you say: 'Mayday mayday mayday, I am in distress'. Since we're in Asia, try the 'I am in distress' part in that Mandarin you've been learning. The ground control man should be able to get what you're saying just from the 'Mayday' part. Just listen to whatever they have to say and they'll help you out."

Anna nodded mutely before looking at the fuel gauge and tapping it. The needle was drifting down into the lower 25%, and she frowned, "Uh, the fuel is low."

"I know. These big twin engines have big fuel tanks as well, it's how we got the range to fly all the way across the Pacific. If it got to around..." he pointed with his index finger to one of the notches closer to the red line at the very bottom of the fuel gauge, "There, then we'd be in trouble. That's called Mayday Fuel, and that means we're running so low that just gettin' to the airport's gonna be a trick."

Anna laid back in the seat and craned her neck to see over the sill of the window, looking down at the clouds as they went by, "...Can I stay here for a bit?"

"Sure thing mate," Jock said as he leaned back as well, eying the horizon as he did so to make sure he didn't knock the plane off course, "Ya know, if you're interested in learning how to fly a plane, I work with your father a bunch. If we got spare time, we can log a few flight hours together, get you a license."

Her ears perked as she turned around, thinking for a bit, "I mean, if you got the time to come all the way up to Bedford, then yeah sounds great. I mean, I hope Dad brings me on more of these trips, but after the stunt I pulled..."

Jock adjusted his sitting position as he leaned on the armrest towards Anna, "What kinda stunt was it?"

Anna grumbled slightly, crossing her forelegs, and staring out ahead of the plane, "...Dad was gonna make me go with my uncle on a boring business trip while he went and had fun looking for treasure. So I ran away from home until he couldn't send me off with my uncle and then forced his hand to bring me along."

Jock clucked his tongue, following her gaze out over the front of the plane, "I mean, from what I've seen with 'im, treasure hunting isn't all gunfire and hot chases. Sounds like you just traded some time with yer uncle for some time with yer dad," he eventually moved to side-eye her, "He spend much time with you, at all?"

"I mean, yeah," Anna frowned, "Plenty. But... when he goes, he goes for months at a time, and he goes no matter what's happening. It's my birthday in like, two weeks, and he was gonna miss it. He missed it last year as well. He missed my primary school graduation..."

Jock reached out over the middle console and ruffled Anna's mane. She scrunched her muzzle as he did it and finally took her eyes off the skies ahead. He retracted his hand and put his feet up on the dashboard, "My Dad was like that. Always somewhere else, and never there when it really mattered. Poor Mom, alone raising me and my brothers and keeping the house in order, but hey-" Jock poked Anna's shoulder, "You're Dad's a better person than mine was. You should try telling him that yourself, in the same way you said it to me. I'm sure he'll understand. Hell, maybe if this goes well we can meet up more and you can get shot at by gangsters together more often."

Anna's ears flattened against her skull. She wasn't sure how much she believed him about her father understanding her worries. Indiana had always been so cagey about her having anything to do with his adventures, always constantly fretting and worrying about her safety... to the point where she probably had been told so much theoretical self defense knowledge that it all blended together. At the same time, she couldn't fathom the guilt she'd feel in making him stay at home all the time. Every day he spent working his office job and lecturing, he grew a bit sadder, and then perked right back up as soon as he was home from an excursion. He'd only brought her because she'd betrayed his trust and forced him to. She doubted severely her chances of recapturing the lightning in a bottle that was this journey.

Something came up over the horizon that allowed Anna to change the subject and break the awkward silence, "Hey, is that land?"

Jock's eyes followed her's, and he nodded, "Yup. That's the east coast of China right there. Might've drifted off course a bit..." Jock reached into the slot between himself and the middle console, unravelling a paper map. Anna, instantly curious, leaned over her armrest to look at the map as he pondered, "...Could be... nah. Hm..."

Anna looked up at the shoreline once, and then confidently pointed at a coastline just south of Shanghai, "Right there."

"Blimey," Jock looked at her hoof and then up at the coast again, "I think you're right! That's... north by northwest, three hundred and fifty degrees!"

The plane banked to the right as Jock took the controls. Anna's senses tingled as she noticed a gradual decline in altitude as Jock began to make the plane gently descend below the cloud line. Twenty more minutes of flying and a city's skyline began to unfold in the distance. For Anna, it reminded her of New York slightly. However, there was no Statue of Liberty, or any of the other landmarks of the skyline. It was surprisingly modern - from everything she'd been told about the Orient, she'd thought she would see a lot more rice fields, red-colored wood, and traditional architecture.

Looking to Jock, she asked, "How much longer till we land?"

"I'd say about fifteen minutes till we make the final approach," Jock said, "You should watch the landing. It's pretty complicated, probably the hardest part about flyin'."

Anna gave a mute nod as she got up from the seat, gently stepping over the middle console and towards the door leading back into the passenger compartment. Knocking against the bathroom door right next to it, she shouted at her father, "Dad! We're here!"

Indiana Jones stirred and muttered something as Anna retreated back through the doorway to sit back down in one of the cockpit's seats. Jock had the radio receiver to his mouth, and the speakers crackled with static as he spoke, "This is Oscar-Bravo One to Pudong Airport, currently at 5,050 feet and descending, heading north by northwest at four-fifty. Permission to enter airspace?" He released the transmission button and looked to Anna, "Gotta always tell ground control that and ask for permission to enter their airspace. They're responsible for making sure you don't crash into other planes and that you land safely."

The radio eventually squawked a reply in accented English, "Oscar-Bravo One, this is Pudong Control. You have permission to enter the airspace. At this time, once you reach the coast, make your course northeast twenty and descend to 2,000 feet."

"Gotcha," Jock responded, before pushing the yoke down, "They're gonna have me go up and down the coast until they can get me a runway. The airport's around there," he pointed through the windscreen at a part of the city, "It shouldn't be really busy, so we'll be down on the ground soon enough."

Anna nodded, before jumping slightly as the door opened behind them. Indiana Jones leaned into the compartment, fedora back on his head and jacket actively being shrugged on, "How's the plane, Jock?"

"Good enough, mate. Got a bit knocked off course somewhere since Japan, but your kid's a real whiz with the map, found us on the coast in seconds," he chuckled, poking Anna in the shoulder once again. This time, she gave him an annoyed look and rubbed the offended spot.

Indiana nodded, "Good. I'll be back here getting our luggage. You'll be returning to the States afterwards?"

Jock adjusted the course as the plane reached the coast, "Yep," he eventually answered, "You'll be alright?"

"Yeah," Indiana said as leaned back away from the cockpit and reached into his jacket, "I know someone who works at the airport here. They'll get me- er, us back to America once we're done."

Anna hummed as she turned her head, "How long do you think this'll take, really?"

"Well, once we get down on the ground..." Indiana muttered, digging through his wallet for several high denomination bills of cash, "It'll be about a week of book research at best, but more likely two. We'll have to see from there. If the entire thing takes more than three months, then it's probably a bust and I'll need to go home and look for other experts to help," Indiana pulled out a wad of bills (about seven hundred dollars, by her estimation) and thrust it towards Jock, who took it with a toothy smile, "Believe that's what we agreed on."

"Yep," Jock stuffed the money into his shirt pocket as he turned back towards the controls.

A voice through the radio chatter brought Anna's attention forward, "Pudong Control, Oscar Bravo One, make your course west two-forty. We have spotted you, you are clear for runway one."

"Gotcha, west two-forty, Oscar Bravo One," Jock replied, before hanging up the receiver again and turning. The city zoomed by below, and Jock pulled back on the throttle as they lined up for the runway, still far in the distance, "Now, the thing that makes landing tricky, is that you gotta go nice and slow. Too fast and you'll damage the plane on landing, or speed off the wrong end and smash into a fence. But you can't go too slow, or else you might not make it to the runway. On something like this, 84 knots is good enough."

Anna watched the airspeed indicator begin to drop as the roar of the engines died down. Eventually, it reached 90, and Jock began to move the throttle slightly to keep the plane from stalling as it continued to descend towards the runway. Jock reached over and pulled a lever, "Gotta have the flaps down on landing."

Anna once again flexed her wings slightly. She too angled her wings when landing at a high speed, so that they caught enough wind to slow her down while not dropping her too fast. It all made a lot of sense to her.

The ground came closer and closer, and Jock handled the yoke like a true professional as the nose came up and the runway engulfed the land beneath them. With the screech of rubber, the plane landed and skidded down the runway. Jock pulled a lever, quickly grunting, "Brake!" the tires continued to screech, before eventually the momentum left the plane and they began to roll to a gentle stop, the end of the runway still a safe hundred feet or so away.

"And that's how you land a plane," Jock smiled, releasing the brake and moving the throttle slightly forward as the engines propelled the plane forward down the runway towards a turn-off. The radio squawked directions to a hangar, and Jock began to navigate towards a designated place.

Anna yawned slightly, realizing it may have been for the best if she napped alongside her father before landing. If she was back in the States, it would've been around 11 PM, and about an hour after she'd usually be safely in bed. Here, though, the sun was high in the sky, around 12PM if she had to hazard a guess.

Anna was jolted from her tired slumber when something cold and dry brushed up against her hind leg. Looking down, her wings reflexively spread and flapped once, propelling her straight into the ceiling as she saw the creature coiling around her leg. It was a Boa Constrictor, staring up at her with cold beady eyes. It stuck out its tongue once, before lowering its head onto her knee.

"Oh, don't worry about him," Jock said as he turned the yoke down a taxiway of the airport, "That's just my pet snake, Reggie. He's a harmless little goober," reaching out over the middle console, he stroked the snake's head, "That just means he likes you."

"Oh..." Anna looked down as the snake raised its head, leaning into the pets. His tongue flicked out a few times, and it cuddled slightly in towards his master's hand, "Where'd you get him?"

"Eh, pet store," Jock put his eyes back on the taxiway in front of him, "But he's been with me since he was just a tiny lil' noodle."

Smiling, Anna turned back to Reggie and resumed the stroking of his head where his owner had stopped. The snake reared its head more into her hoof, and licked her once with his tongue, "I don't see why Dad's afraid of these guys."

At that very moment, the squeak of the flooring indicated the arrival of Indiana Jones in the doorway leading into the cockpit. Anna turned to look at him, and saw him carrying a holster and her whip in his right hand, "Hey, Anna, come back here and put these- OHhhHHhHH!" he quivered as his eyes finally looked at Anna's hind leg, and the snake calmly coiled around it, "Jock, what's a snake doing eating my daughter!?"

Jock chuckled, "That's my snake," he said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Reaching over, he scratched Reggie's chin slightly, causing the snake to calmly begin uncoiing.

Sounding almost sick, Indiana retreated from the cockpit, shouting behind him, "Anna. Get over here and put these on."

Not long after the plane finished taxiing had Anna left the cockpit. She was given her gun, and informed it was fully loaded. She was pensive as she took the weapon, knowing that it was the "real deal". Her whip, attached to the opposite side from her revolver, was a much more fun presence. Finally, she was given a bag full of items, her spare changes, some emergency pocket money in case she ever got stranded, a pocket knife, a box of spare bullets for her gun, and her journal.

Jock saw the two of them off as the plane's engines powered down and crew rushed up to attend to the landed aircraft, "Have a good one, Doctor Jones! And you too, Anna!" he waved as he stood in the hatchway.

Indiana Jones, notably scrambling to put a bit of distance between himself and the plane, gave a quick wave back, "Safe flight back, Jock!"

"Thanks for showing me the cockpit! And give Reggie a treat from me!" Anna shouted as she stretched her wings and hovered in midair, freeing up a hoof for her to wave.

Indiana mumbled something after she mentioned Reggie, but continued onwards as he shrugged a heavy duffel bag, containing most of the duo's vital belongings, over his shoulder, "Try not to fly around too much here, Anna. I don't want you attracting too much attention."

Anna huffed, "Pfft. Dad, I'm basically a walking, talking foghorn already. Besides, you know what Uncle said about keeping my wings practiced!" her eyes scanned the hangar around them. On the surface, it was no different from the place they went to in America in San Fransisco, but there were subtle differences in designs, smells, sounds, and looks.

Sunlight beamed over Indiana's face as they reached the mouth of the hangar, "I suppose you're right."

Anna smelled the fresh air as the wind blew over the airfield, giving out a sigh before rolling her shoulders slightly, "Besides. If I'm walking, some guy might just pick me up and drag me off. Harder to do when I'm up here..." to prove her point, she ascended to a few feet higher than her father's head.

Sparing a tired look up at his daughter, Indiana reached up and gently pulled her back down to his height by a hind leg, "Remember the rules? Stick close, don't fly off, do what I say, and just run- or fly, if there's trouble."

Anna rolled her eyes, "Yes Dad."

Indiana ignored her attitude as he trudged along towards a fence at the edge of the airport. Several other passengers and crew milled around the entrance, as it was the medium between the outer streets and the airfield. Many stared, but Anna pretended nothing was wrong as they came closer to the exit gates.

Indiana eventually spoke up as they neared the checkpoint, "I have contacts here. Their names are Wu Han and Short Round. The first is a fellow archaeologist, he knows the local lore better than I do and is going to help with my research. Second's a driver and bodyguard, hired muscle goes a long way on these kinds of expeditions."

Anna hummed as she eyed the crowd near the airport, trying not to make eye contact with the fifty or so eyes turned in her direction, "...So, what am I then?"

"Huh?" Indiana said, confused as they reached the edge of the crowd.

Flying higher over the heads of the crowd and raising her voice, Anna repeated herself, "What am I then!?"

"...You're my daughter?" Indiana shouted in return as he pressed by the crowd, eventually finding the queue for the immigration checkpoint.

Anna rolled her eyes as she came down to hover over her father, keeping consistent with the queue, "I mean, what am I? Am I hired muscle too? Expert help? Navigator?"

"Uh..." Indiana furrowed his brow as the line moved forward, distracted by the upcoming customs checkpoint as he dug around in his bag, "You're... tagging along."

Anna opened her mouth to say something, but shut it and frowned. After a moment, she simply mumbled, "...Oh."

"Huh?" Indiana asked from below, nearly deafened by the crowd.

Anna sighed, shoulders drooping, "...Nothing."

A cold finger brushed her hind leg, causing her to reflexively spring upwards away from the intruding hand. Below her, a Chinese man retreated his hand away from her, eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Frown deepening, she flourished her nose and put her hooves behind her back as she glared at him, "Hey! Don't you know you aren't meant to fondle a lady's legs!?"

"Líng zài ròushēn zhōng..." the man said to himself, rubbing the hand he touched her with and slowly backing away into the crowd.

As the line slowly inched forward, Anna used her height advantage to survey the surrounding area. Shanghai was certainly a city large enough to compete with ones from back home. The sidewalks outside the fences containing the airport were swarmed with pedestrians, marching endlessly in various directions towards wherever they needed to go. Many were dressed like Americans and English people, with suits, ties, and nice dresses. However, a small portion wore rather odd and, she could only assume, culturally Chinese dress.

The streets outside the gates were just as crowded as the passenger terminal, with a few automobiles moving to and fro between rickshaws and even a few normal horse-drawn wagons. Squinting, she attempted to use her limited knowledge of Chinese to decipher some of the lettering of the shops and restaurants. She made some progress, but eventually gave up and continued scanning the crowd beyond the gate for her father's contacts.

Her eyes were attracted naturally to a few white people waiting for others to progress through the checkpoint. It seemed that most of those who were outside the airport were waiting for friends and family to move through the line, with the remainder in transition into taxis and private cars, loading luggage and discussing on the sidewalk. She did see a pair who seemed to be, conspicuously, not diverting all their attention to solely her and instead glancing between her and her father below her. It was an adult Chinese man, with a younger child beside him. Frowning, she looked around for anyone she could construe as a "bodyguard". Far off at the back of the crowd, she briefly spotted a man in a fancy suit leaning on the hood of a car reading a newspaper, locking her with a stare. If she was a normal human girl, she'd find that odd, but she passed it off as he noticed her attention and looked back at his newspaper.

Eventually, Indiana's voice came from below as Anna realized it was their turn at the customs checkpoint, "Anna! Get your passport!"

She reached into her backpack, undoing a buckle of one of the more secure pockets and pulling out the small booklet, the Federal seal on the front. Stretching out her foreleg and losing a bit of altitude, she handed it down to Indiana, who gave it to the man operating the checkpoint. The police officer looked between Anna and Indiana quickly, quirking an eyebrow at Anna for a few seconds as she handed him her passport.

"Can't uh," Indiana scratched his nose as the officer inspected Anna's passport, "Can't mistake that face, huh?"

Anna simply rolled her eyes as the agent gave her her passport back, ascending back up slightly as soon as she replaced it in its appropriate pocket. They finally moved away from the checkpoint, and Anna followed as Indiana finally walked at a brisk pace again, going directly towards the man and the child who had been watching them both this entire time. Anna hovered to a landing next to them, adjusting her bag as she did so.

Indiana, a smile on his face that wasn't there when he was talking with her, gestured towards the two, "Anna. Meet Wu Han," he gestured at the older man, who gave a nervous nod towards her, "...And Short Round," he pointed at the child.

Short Round pointed at Anna, looking up to Indiana with wide eyes, "Doctah Jones! Your daughter is a horse!"

Author's Note

Here we go! We're going to be going through an extended prologue in Shanghai/China before catching up with the main focus of the actual film! Gotta get those Short Round x Anna interactions in!

Expect longer chapters as we go into adventure sections. Action scenes tend to be longer-winded and harder to cut. Some of the original chapters (including this one) were 16,000+ words long before obviously being re-cut into smaller sections.

Warning: Chinese dialogue was transliterated almost two years ago by one of my friends, and I can't translate it back to figure out what it was meant to mean word-for-word during the re-drafting process. I know just as much about what the dialogue is meant to say as the readers do.

25: Short Round, 1935

"Dad! He's like, eight!"

"Eight and a half, horsey!"

"Don't call me that!"

Indiana Jones winced as he thumbed through his bills of Chinese cash, coming up to the correct amount for the car dealer standing in front of him, "That's enough, you two."

"Dad!" Anna stomped a hoof, having landed right next to him to save her energy on flying and focus it on arguing, "You like- I'm like sixteen Dad! And you're letting this eight year old tag along!?"

"...You're actually fifteen..." Indiana frowned as he handed over the cash, taking the keys to a new vehicle in return.

"Did you give him four years of training with a gun and whip? Does he even know how to shoot!?" Anna fumed, staring up at her father, her eyebrows set and teeth grinding.

"I know kung fu!" Short Round mimed some weak slaps with his arms.

Indiana scratched the back of his head as he tossed the keys towards Short Round, "Anna, you gotta understand he's not my daughter."

Short Round flourished his nose as he walked past them towards the beige car sitting on the side of the road, "That's cause I'm a boy, Doctah Jones."

"So??? Shouldn't I deserve better!?" Anna shouted, ignoring Short Round.

Indiana gestured for Wu Han to get into the front seat, the latter man wisely ignoring the drama and pretending to look elsewhere as he did so, as Indiana got into the back, "You have a good, safe home to get back to. You have an education that I paid for. Short Round is much better off with me than where I found him."

Short Round found the ignition for the second hand car, before placing the keys inside and putting his feet up on the seat, "I no get shot all the time back in orphanage, Doctah Jones. Also can I get an education too Doctah Jones?"

"Yeah, you were just begging in the ditches and pickpocketing for a living instead," Indiana as he climbed into the back seat, gesturing for Anna to follow, "And if we pull this off you can earn your education."

Tying a knot on a pair of twine connected to two wooden blocks on the ends of his shoes, Short Round shrugged, "Okey dokey."

Wu Han leaned over the front seat as Anna slid into the back, "Doctor Jones. I've done some of that preliminary research you wired ahead about," he reached into a briefcase, holding out a stack of papers, "Copied them myself."

"Thanks," Indiana said, trying to take his eyes off of the death glare his daughter was giving him from the seat beside him, "We'll check into the hotel first and get dinner somewhere. We'll try and stay up as long as possible before getting some shuteye. We've had a long flight."

At least Anna could agree on that. The food they'd had on the airplane tasted strange, and hadn't been very filling either way. Sleeping also seemed like a good idea... her mind wandered to the stories her father told her, of adventure, ancient tombs, treasures beyond understanding... She could stand the unfairness of her situation if she could see a few wondrous places. Besides, there would be plenty of travelling, plenty of time to spend with her father. She took a breath as the automobile sped down the streets, sparing a moment of surprise that her father was allowing Short Round to pilot the car.

Looking over to her father, whose nose was in the research papers, she pointed towards Short Round. Her voice was more pleasant than her simmering anger before as she asked, "Hey, Dad. If he's allowed to drive, can I try driving when we get home?"

Indiana blinked as he was talked to, looking over to Anna with confusion, "Huh?"

"Can I learn to drive when we get home?" Anna repeated bluntly.

"Uh, sure," He dismissed looking back to the paper.

Short Round blasted the horn as the car came to a sudden stop at an intersection, a cart slowly rattling its way in front of him. Anna scratched at her winter coat as it chafed with the straps of her backpacks, "So... what's the plan, Dad?"

Indiana remained silent, papers shuffling as he exchanged one for another in front of him. Annoyance bubbled up in Anna as she reached over and tapped him on the side, "Dad?"

"What?" Indiana sighed as he answered, not taking his eyes off the paper.

"What's the plan!?" Anna raised her forehooves into a shrug as she asked.

"I already said," Indiana dismissed again with a shake of his head, exchanging papers again.

Anna felt the steam rising as she let her forelegs fall to the seat with an exaggerated slap, "Not that! About the whole, y'know, ashes thing!"

Indiana waved a hand in a shooing motion, "Not now. Can't you see I'm busy?"

Anna opened her mouth to answer, but shut it and folded her forehooves, looking away from her father as she stared out the window at the passing city streets around her. Still, she couldn't focus on taking in the details and the sights, her heart beating faster as her muscles twitched with rage. Maybe she should've stayed and gone with Marcus, at least the pleasant old man would talk to her when she was feeling lonely. She'd never seen this dimension of her own father, and she had to say that she didn't like it all that much.

The first voice to break the painful silence was Wu Han's, accompanied by a pointed finger towards a nearby street corner, "Pull up here, Mr. Round. There is good food here. Expensive but good service, and I know Mr. Jones will want to shout us a good meal for good fortune on our quest!"

Indiana chuckled as there was another page shuffle from his direction. Anna, willing her ears to rotate away from the two men and back to its defiantly flattened position on top of her head, took a heated breath as she squeezed herself harder against the door, panning her eyes to the place that Wu Han had been pointing. A cloth shade covered the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, which featured a glass facade and a wooden panelled interior. It seemed to be mildly busy, considering the time of day, with people sitting at most of the tables inside. A sign outside was written in Chinese, but subtitled in English: "NAN YANG"

The car came to a stop near the restaurant, the engine going silent as Short Round retrieved the keys from the ignition. Anna's ear flicked as she could almost feel Indiana finally take his eyes off his work and look at her, only for the door on his side to open as everyone got out of the car. With a sigh, she did so as well, pushing off with her hind legs into flight as she prepared to take off her backpack and throw it into the car behind her.

"No do that, Horsey," Short Round's voice came from her right, making her already sour frown deepen, "It get stolen like that!"

"Don't. Call. Me. That," Anna growled as she readjusted the strap on her shoulder.

Indiana walked around the hood of the car as Wu Han walked off towards the restaurant. To Anna's token relief, poked Short Round in the shoulder, "Don't call her that. Her name's Anna."

"But that we she is," Short Round held out a hand towards Anna, before the older man grabbed him by the other arm and dragged him along.

Grumbling softly to herself, Anna leaned forward, flapping her wings to brush by the two of them to the middle of the group. As they reached the restaurant, she was immersed in the sounds of babbled Chinese conversations, the sounds of cooking from an open window into the kitchen, and the smells of foreign foods and the faint must of mold. Wu Han gave her a glance as she hovered in place in the throughcourse of the restaurant, before sitting down at a table nearby with enough spare seats for the four of them.

Indiana Jones let Short Round take the far seat as he sat at the close one, across from Anna. Taking off his fedora and placing it on the table, he winced, "Hey. There a bathroom here?"

Wu Han nodded, pointing towards a door on the opposite end of the eating area.

With a thankful nod, Indiana stood up again and walked off towards the bathroom. Leaving the three of them as a waiter came over and gave them their menus, stalking off towards another table shortly after. Anna watched him as he went, humming to herself as she noted how many European-style clothes the people of Shanghai wore.. and ignoring all the stares she was attracting, "I thought folks here would be wearing more, like, Chinese stuff."

Wu Han smiled and shook his head, "In the big cities like Shanghai, not much traditional culture remains. I fear one day every man on the street will speak English and mutter in broken Mandarin."

Anna looked down at the menu in front of her, trying to distract herself from her heated thoughts as they encroached back on the edges of her mind. Most of the menu was written in Chinese, and she could only make out bits and pieces from her studies. She was about to look up towards Wu Han to inquire about what the menu meant when Short Round's voice interrupted her thoughts again, his whining voice causing her to immediately lock onto him with a glare.

The content of his speech, however, gave her pause, "Sorry for calling you Horsey, Anna. That was mean," Short Round said, his eyes practically on level with hers across the table despite the age difference.

Anna folded her forelegs, maintaining her frown, "Sure, yeah. Apology accepted or whatever."

Short Round paused for a moment before rubbing his nose and pressing onwards, "No-no. I sorry, I mean it very much. You look strange so I call you first thing I know, thought it would be cool nickname. I no mean it, okie dokie? You Doctah Jones's daughter, you are friend of mine. Got it?" the kid stuck his hand out across the table towards her.

Anna leaned her head to the side to see his palm, watching for a blotch of ink or some sort of trick. Finding nothing, she relented and shook his hand, "Thanks... for being honest, that is."

Withdrawing his hand, Short Round nodded before leaning an elbow on the table, "So, what you do for fun?"

"I like reading," Anna leaned back in her seat, "Flying, birdwatching..."

"How high you fly?" Short Round leaned forward slightly, "Can you lift me?"

"I've flown above the clouds before. They float around sixteen... twenty thousand feet. It gets hard to breathe higher than that," Anna looked the kid up and down and hummed, "I could probably carry you, since you're light."

"Cool! We gotta try! Soon!" Short Round was almost standing on his chair from the excitement, but was broken up suddenly by the return of Indiana Jones.

Anna's anger recalled from the depths of her heart as she suddenly remembered she was mad, her eyes sharply watched Indiana as he walked back from the bathroom and took his seat again. Sighing, he took the menu and said, "Starving. You guys thought of anything yet?"

"I always get the pork here," Wu Han said in his usual calm, collected voice as he placed his menu back on the table.

"Wonton and egg prawn!" Short Round exclaimed as he looked up to Indiana, almost in search of approval.

Indiana's eyes went to Anna next over the top of his menu, prompting her to finally consider her meal again. Shrugging, she said, "Can't read the menu."

Wu Han's arm crossed in front of Anna's vision as he began to point at the various menu items, speaking their names out loud. With a muted sigh, she listened as he listed off the foreign foods. The closest she'd come to Chinese cuisine were vague memories of noodles in Chicago, as there wasn't very many interesting non-American eateries in Bedford. They also, unfortunately, all majorly included meats of some kind. Over the years, they'd found she could eat bits and pieces of meats here and there, but too much made her nauseous (the small amounts she did eat weren't very appetizing anyway).

Eventually, she decided, "Guess I'll try the veggie noodles?"

"Pretty much the only thing on here you can eat," Indiana mumbled as he lowered his own menu, declaring, "I'll try the bao and some of that pork."

A quick visit from the waiter later to collect their orders, and the menus were ferried away as they were left alone to talk. Instantly, Indiana took the opportunity to lean forward with a grin towards Wu Han, "Alright. You got some good stuff here. It's not in Peking anymore?"

Anna leaned forward slightly as well, ears perking as she heard word of the quest ahead of them. Her eyes diverted to Wu Han as he responded, "Stolen in 1905, yes. Makes sense. Lao Che wouldn't hire an archaeologist to steal from a palace."

Short Round shook his head, "Lao Che do all kinds of crazy things. Wouldn't surprise me."

Indiana took one of the research papers from his jacket pocket, "He might be surprised at what places I can get myself into. Anyway, I think we'll do some follow-up in the library. See if we can't find where the thieves took it."

"We may find luck in the old newspapers,. A week or two, maybe," Wu Han nodded.

Anna's ears flopped to her skull, "The... library? A week or two?"

Indiana chuckled as he rapped his fingers against the table, "Isn't all whipcracking and shooting, Anna. You think I became a doctorate of archaeology just to never use any of the knowledge and go and cowboy around all the time?"

Anna slid back from the table, having used her forehooves to lean forward, head flopping back onto the seat back of the chair, "...Guess not."

The men's voices became distant mumbles as Anna sat. The exhaustion of the long flight, the repeated snubbing she'd experienced from her father, being called names, being in a far away place, and facing over a month more of it... it instilled her with a feeling of impending desperation and hopelessness that she feared. Her mind shrunk away and dreaded the fact that her fears of destitution and boredom during this excursion would all turn out to be true.

"Toughen up, Anna. You didn't run away from home just to come here and mope," she thought as she leaned forward onto the table, shutting her eyes. A voice responded from the back of her head, shouting that her self-comfort was unhelpful at best.

A hand patted her on the back, and she opened her eyes to see the Wu Han with his hand on her back and a waiter standing over them with her meal. She took deep whiffs of the aromatic food as the deep plate of steamy, weird-smelling noodles clattered in front of her. Greens, yellows, oranges, and light brown noodles filled the bowl, along with a pair of chopsticks. She looked up to the waiter and opened her mouth to complain, but her father's voice interrupted her, "Xiānshēng, tā xūyào yī bǎ chāzi."

Anna recognized the word 'Fork' somewhere in the foreign soup. On many of her previous experiences, Anna found that she struggled to use chopsticks with her hooves, whatever force she used to manipulate tools usually being unable to quite figure out how to use the sticks like humans did.

The waiter clucked his tongue as he stepped back, shaking his head as he turned around and stalked off, muttering something only Anna could hear, "Měiguó rén..."

Eventually, the waiter returned with Western silverware, finally allowing Anna to dig in after stewing in her hunger for a few minutes. The food was good and very little conversation was shared as they ate. Even at home, Indy wasn't one to talk all too much while eating. It seemed neither of the Chinese members of the table were interested in doing so either. The only real interaction were a couple of questions thrown Wu Han's way as Indy flipped through his research document.

"Where are you staying?" Wu Han asked.

"Cathay," Indiana said, not looking up from his books and prodding the last of his pork with his chopsticks, "You should stay with us."

"I am living in a friend's home just outside the British settlement," Wu Han responded, pushing back his plate as he finished off, picking up a napkin to clean up his face.

Indiana finally looked up, eyes fixing on Wu Han as he leaned closely and lowered his voice, "All likelihood we're being tailed. We should stay in the same building, slightly safer to be together than be picked off alone," he whispered, though Anna's ears picking up his words past the noise.

Wu Han eventually seemed to cede to the wisdom of the idea, "Can we go to my house, then? Pick up some things before we go to the hotel?"

"Sure," Indiana said, leaning back and quickly finishing off the last of his meal.

Anna took the sign to do the same as the waiter was quickly summoned for the bill, which was paid by her father. Her energy was rapidly dwindling as they made their way back to their car, but she was urged to stay awake until they reached the hotel. The closer they could get to sleeping on time, the better off they were the coming days. As they trundled off towards the borders of the International Settlement, Anna popped open her watch, reading the time as 2PM.

Her brain failed to register fully most of what happened for the rest of the trip as she simply fought to stay awake. After leaving the bounds of the British settlement, their car wove through tight alleyways, flanked by more traditional architecture and older buildings. Eventually, they stopped somewhere, with Wu Han and Indy getting out to walk to a house to get something.

She was shaken violently by Indiana's hand, reached in through the window. When she finally turned her half-lidded eyes up towards her father, he said, "Watch out for anyone trying to come to the car."

However, when she just muttered a barely audible reply and rubbed her eyes, it seemed her father changed his mind and decided to remain by the car, leaning against its boot while Wu Han carried out a few bags of luggage on his own. Finally, they had the car turned around and heading back towards the International Settlement, an hour later. Anna didn't get to appreciate the journey back, however, as before she knew it she was once again shaken awake as they arrived.

She managed to drag herself into the lobby, even Indiana showing signs of exhaustion as he reached the desk and called in their reservation for three rooms. She was informed that they would be staying in connected rooms, while Wu Han had his own across the hall.

When they finally arrived, Anna was begrudgingly convinced to take a quick shower before finally going to sleep. As she made a beeline for the bathroom, she heard Short Round's voice from behind her, "This what American houses like?"

"No, Shorty," Indiana muttered, unpacking his suitcase. The rest of the conversation was cut off as Anna slammed the door shut behind her and opened the shower faucets.

Anna, fresh from the shower, hung up her towel on a rack beside the bathroom door as she re-entered the hotel room proper. She was practically already falling asleep on her hooves, and the satin sheets of the luxurious hotel room bed reached their cloth tendrils out towards her as she lazily flapped her wings to hop up over the side of the mattress. Before she could shimmy beneath the covers, though, a knock came from the door, followed by the deep voice of her father.

"Hey, Anna. Can I come in for a second?" Indiana's voice called from the other side of the door.

Anna rubbed her eyes, not wanting to even bother walking to the door and back, "Dad. I'm so tired that I'm barely functional."

"Right..." Indiana's voice came back through the door, "...Uh. Anna, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't treat you very nicely today, I'm just under a lot of stress."

"Ugh," Anna quietly moaned as she flopped backwards onto the pillows, pausing only to remove the topmost pillow so that it didn't crick her neck. Raising her voice, she responded, "Sure, Dad. Whatever. Apology accepted, can you leave me alone now?"

The subtle sound of the door creaking as, she assumed, her father stopped leaning on it followed by footsteps leading away told her all she needed to know. Shuffling against the sheets, she pulled the blanket over herself and fell asleep almost instantly.

The public library of Shanghai, while nothing to sneeze at, also wasn't that special to Anna. Generally, she'd be okay with finding a few books and reading, but almost every single interesting-looking book in the library was written in Chinese. Things in the imported sections, written in English mostly, were all utilitarian books. Textbooks, law journals, scientific manuals, etcetera. Nothing she was even vaguely interested. She couldn't even continue her recounting of her father's adventures in Marrakesh without her typewriter or stationery, which were counted as too heavy and bulky for the light packing they'd done.

At first, she'd tried sitting at the table where Indiana and Wu Han were conducting their business. However, not only could she not read what they were reading, but their progress was so slow that she quickly grew impatient and began twiddling her hooves while looking up at the oversized clockface that overlooked the library interior, just counting the minutes. She swore that watching the time tick by actively on the clock, slowly wearing down the ten hours or so they had until the library closed and they did something else, just made time go slower.

Short Round had been posted near the entrance in order to 'Watch out for trouble'. How exactly the little tyke was going to warn them of anything if thugs burst through the door before they silenced him was beyond her. However, trying to talk with the raggedy kid was a whole hell of a lot better than sitting around while the two men mumbled things in Chinese to themselves, absorbed in their research. Besides, they'd probably hardly notice her gone... if Indiana's track record was anything to go off of.

Walking between the library stacks towards the entrance, Anna spotted Short Round's baseball cap as he sat on the floor, leaning against the end of a bookshelf. He noticed her approaching, and gave her a nod, "Hello Anna."

"Hi," Anna sighed as she reached up and ran a hoof through her mane, "I'm bored to death, and you're the only one who'll talk to me. How are you not bored, just sitting around here?"

Short Round shrugged, "I like to imagine I'm somewhere else. Also I get paid for do nothing, so it better."

Anna frowned as she remembered a time where she could completely immerse herself in her own imaginary world. Now that she thought of it, she wasn't all that sure when she stopped being able to do so, "So... Dad told me that you and him met a year ago?"

"I try to pickpocket him, but he too clever. I think he take me to the police, but he pay me instead. You very lucky to have Doctah Jones as father, he very good man," Short Round expressed, putting his hands on his knees and leaning forward slightly.

Anna cringed slightly at Short Round's broken English, before sighing as she fell to her haunches next to him, "Glad you think so. He's been a real ass so far."

"What is ass?" Short Round shuffled again, turning his head towards her.

"Uh... it's like, a mixture of stupid and mean. Annoying, I guess?" Anna shrugged, "He keeps leaving to go on his wild adventures for months at a time, sometimes even half the entire year. I need to go be with my uncle during that time, and like- I like him, but he's kinda old and boring. Dad ends up misses birthdays, Christmases..." she trailed off as she realized she'd started rambling about her deep feelings to a literal eight year old.

Short Round, fortunately, didn't seem to mind all that much, "To me having father even half the year sounds good. Three year ago, Japanese kill my mother and father. Two year ago, my brother Chu die because he got sick drinking water from the ditch."

Anna's ears flattened against her skull as she cringed again, "Ah... right. Uh, makes sense. Guess that's- guess that's pretty rough."

"Yep," Short Round nodded in a manner that Anna wasn't sure if he was mocking her soberness, "But I survive. I get money now working for Doctah Jones. Then I go to school, I learn mathematics. Then I go work as taxi driver and make big money, and then I'll live on top of one of those big towers," he pointed out a nearby window to one of Shanghai's taller buildings, "Or maybe move to America. Or maybe England. Got to have good- better English for that though."

"It's too rainy in England. I've been there," Anna shrugged, "But it's cool to be above the clouds when it's raining, but like-" she flexed her wings, "It's gonna rain here soon too."

"It is?" Short Round looked up to the slowly rolling dark clouds overhead, "You can tell?"

"Yeah uh... One of my uncles, Johan, he's a scientist. He says I can detect pressure changes really well, better than the lab equipment," Anna explained, shuffling her wings back to her sides and leaning on a forehoof.

"Whoah," Short Round's eyes became wide as he looked back out the window, then back to her, "You said you fly with me? Can you lift?"

"I think so," Anna said, looking the kid up and down, "You wanna try?"

Short Round leapt to his feet as he waved an arm for her to follow along as he clambered down the stairs leading down to the front doors, "Come on! I want go fly!"

Anna spared one last look towards Indiana and Wu Han at their study desk. Fortunately, just as before, they were too absorbed in their reading to even notice them abandoning their posts. They weren't gonna go that far away anyway.

The square outside the library was swarming with the crowds going to and from the various public forums in the area, the library included. Short Round stopped a few yards clear of the sides of the library and its overhang, with the darkening sky clearly above them. A few birds flocked to and from nearby buildings, mostly gulls from the nearby seafront and pigeons nesting in the buildings.

Anna tittered slightly as she made a short hop from one of the steps of the gradual stairs leading down the plaza, spreading her wings and going into a hover. Approaching Short Round, she put out her forehooves straight out to her sides, "Stretch out your arms and I'll grab you."

Short Round nodded eagerly, spreading out his arms. Maneuvering behind him, she hooked her hooves under his armpits and gave an experimental lift. Being a skinny kid and half her age, he could only really be around half her weight. Without her luggage, or any other supplementary weight, she could fly at full speed with only a small amount of added effort.

"Alright. We're gonna start flying up," Anna looked up, spotting the top of a thunderhead nearby, watching as it started to precipitate on the far end of the city, "Ready?"

"O-Okie dokie!" Short Round breathed as he dangled his legs a few inches off the ground.

With an extra strong flap, Anna let her barrel come flush with Short Round's back as she aimed straight upwards and flew. Slightly slower than usual, she gained distance from the ground. She tightened her grip under Short's right arm as he reached up and clutched onto his hat, the first bout of wind threatening to blow it off already. They rocketed higher and higher, eventually clearing the rooftop of the library, then the rooftops of many of its surrounding high-rise buildings.

Short Round craned his neck to see below him as his legs dangled and kicked. His, probably unintentional, struggles didn't make Anna's job of flying any easier, but she still rose higher and higher. One of her earliest, vague memories was of her first time flying high enough to see to the horizon.

No doubt, the strong, overwhelming thrill Anna associated with the memory was just coming over Short Round at that moment. She gave her first, genuine joyful smile since she left the United States, "How's the view, Short?"

Short Round tried to move his neck to look behind him at her, but couldn't, and instead just settled for shouting back, "THIS IS COOL!"

Lightning flashed across the sky ahead, followed by the explosive boom of thunder. Some of the clouds overhead began to spittle water onto them, "Hold on, Short! We're gonna go see that storm up close!" With that, she leaned her body weight forward, and caught the air in her wings, plunging them both towards the storm front and the towering cumulonimbus dead ahead.

Short Round reached up, catching his cap before it blasted off with the wind, clutching it in his right hand as he visibly squinted to keep the wind out of his eyes. Heavy turbulence blustered against the two of them, and Anna alternated between the occasional sprint with her wings, to moving parallel with the swirling storm to glide on the wind. Flying parallel with the ground meant that Short Round was treated to a direct view of the ground. She locked her legs underneath his to prevent her from flailing around beneath her, and to strengthen her grip as they started to get slicked with rainwater.

Thunder boomed as lightning flashed across them, almost blinding them with its fury. The closer they came to the thunderhead, the more and more turbulent the wind got. However, this was far from the first time Anna had dealt with flying near a storm, and she braked, glided, and flapped to keep her altitude constant as they reached towards the clouds. Suddenly, the rain stopped as they broke through a bank of clouds. The noonday sun beat down on them as they hovered near the cloud line. Still ahead of them, the giant thunderhead towered into the sky, dark and foreboding as lightning flashed and thunder boomed.

Anna's heart thundered in her ears, the exertion of carrying Short Round combined with the struggle of fighting the storm made her legs and wings burn. Gently, she looked down to the cloud below, intending to land on it as she gently lowered herself against the turbulence. Obeying her commands, the cloud supported her weight, and she landed carefully, still holding onto Short Round.

"Pull your legs up, sit on my lap," Anna sighed as she extended her hind legs in a more awkward, human-like sitting position in the cloud.

Short Round did so, sitting on her lap as his legs disappeared into the cloud below. His breathing was rapid, and he shivered as he looked around wildly. Stopping his rapid panting, he made a deep gasp for breath, before pointing towards his throat, "Anna, it hard for me to breathe."

Anna stopped for a moment, quirking an eyebrow. Eventually, she realized why. This being the first time she'd brought a passenger up to the clouds, rather than the clouds down to a passenger, she didn't realize that humans weren't exactly accustomed to breathing at this altitude, "Hey. It's okay. Keep calm and try and stay upright. I have to catch my breath before I go and fly you back down."

"O-Okay," Short Round panted as he looked up towards the thunderhead. Wind roared from it as the clouds subtly writhed and pulsed. Lightning coursed through it at intervals, and Anna could feel the static coming from it each time it pulsed. It was almost like sitting in a field in front of an exploding volcano.

It all happened at once. Lightning boomed from the thunderhead, coursing through the clouds towards them. The flash and the explosive crack of the lightning leaving the clouds and heading towards the ground stunned both passenger and flyer. A particularly strong gust of wind came, and Anna felt Short Round begin to roll off her hind legs, his arms flailing for balance as he fell backwards into the cloud.

She reached and grabbed for his arm, instead only grabbing the rim of the cap he held in his hands. With a scream, his grip slipped and he disappeared through the shifting cloud.

Immediately, Anna stuffed the cap into her mouth and jumped, kicking open a hole into the cloud and diving through. Wind blew through her tail and mane as she spread her wings and made a dead dive. The arms of the city reached up towards her as she dove towards a tiny, flailing grey dot that was rapidly consuming the 8,000 feet they had remaining to sea level.

She put more juice into her dive, her wings closing against her sides to reduce drag. Fortunately, Short Round flailing around increased his surface area, slowing him down as he plummeted. The air thickened rapidly beneath her, and Shanghai became larger and larger, closing around her peripherals as she raced the raindrops. She couldn't hear his screams, but she could definitely see his panic as he flipped back and forth in the air. Angling her wings, she attacked his position from below, braking just enough and spreading her forelegs to catch him.

His weight knocked into her like a bag of bricks, but aside from the stinging pain his shoulder had inflicted to her nose, she gripped him tight as she flapped her wings rapidly, arresting their decent speed. Their skydive stopped at what Anna estimated was around 1,000 feet, leaving them both to breath rapidly as they hovered, the wind and rain battering against them.

Eyes wide and alert from the restored oxygen levels, Short Round looked over into Anna's eyes, "...Whoah," he breathed.

"Wanna land now?" Anna said around the cap clutched in her teeth, mane and wind whipping in the wind.

"Uh huh!" Short Round nodded, both awe and trepidation in his eyes were now visible in the new position he rested in in Anna's forelegs.

Letting herself fall, Anna angled her wings and caught the momentum and wind from her dive to rocket back uptown. The wind had caused them to drift towards the other end of the city from the library, but Anna knew where she was going. Eventually, the unique orange shingles of the top of the library caught her eyes and she slowed her speed, gliding in a circular pattern down to the plaza at last.

The two were soaked to the bone when they finally re-entered the library. Short Round was obviously shivering and glad to have his own feet back on the ground, but to Anna's immense relief his big, dumb grin told her he wasn't upset or angered by the experience. A quick look back up to the clock above the door revealed that they'd spent about an hour in flight.

Short Round flicked his fingers, spraying water from his soaked jersey onto the floor as he peeked around a bookshelf at the study desk where Indiana and Wu Han had been sitting. Turning back around to Anna, he nodded, "Nobody come and steal Doctah Jones's organs while we gone. Good."

Anna felt the shiver deep within herself as she stepped in behind Short Round. Submitting herself to the instinct, she shook her body, water coming off in sprays as she spat out Short Round's cap onto the floor next to him. Finishing, she wiped her bangs out of her eyes as she grunted, "Did they even notice us gone?"

"They would be more worried if they notice. I thought it only be a few minutes, we lucky they never went for bathroom break and looked," Short Round put his back up to the bookshelf, sliding down into a sitting position again.

Anna fell to her haunches, before realizing she was smiling, "So. That was fun?"

Short Round nodded eagerly, "Lots of fun! We do again sometime! It even faster than driving car! I got scared when you drop me through the cloud, but then you catch me just in time! I thought I was gonna die!"

"I uh, didn't mean to drop you," Anna scratched the back of her head, slightly embarrassed, "The lightning and the wind knocked you off."

"You should drop me again and catch me, next time we go up! That was best part!" Short Round exclaimed.

"Okay," Anna chuckled, wiping her wet hooves on her even wetter beige shirt, "...Uh, so what now?"

Short Round patted himself down, an obvious look of relief on his face when he found that the item he was looking for did not, in fact, fly out of his pocket during his skydive. He pulled out a pack of playing cards, its container damp from the rain, "You know Poker?"

Anna, in fact, did not know Poker. Short Round was good enough to teach her, and also turned out to be excellent at the game itself. Fortunately, Anna didn't have any actual money to bet with, as she lost every single round over the next three hours. She would've quit, if it weren't for the boredom that awaited her when she had nothing else to do. Eventually though, the crowd in the library dispersed. The rain stopped outside, leaving nothing but an overcast sunset as the city rapidly grew dark.

Eventually, the sounds of familiar boots behind them caused Anna's ears to swivel. Indiana's voice came from behind her, "Playing poker? Also how'd you get so damp?"

Anna reached up a hoof to feel her mane, a small amount of moisture still hanging about in it, "We uh, we got caught in the rain," she aimed a subtle wink towards Short Round, who nodded along.

Indiana put his hands on his hips, "You won any games, Anna?"

Anna shook her head, "Nope."

"Your daughter just learning Doctah Jones," Short Round insisted, "No biggie."

Indiana stepped towards Short Round. Instinctively, he retracted his right arm, only for the larger man to grab it and fish a left finger into the sleeve. He pulled out a bunch of cards, "Anna's not learning, Shorty. You're cheating."

Anna threw down her cards, "Hey! Come on!"

"Come on, Shorty. Let's get back to the hotel. We'll try the newspaper archives tomorrow," Indiana pulled the kid to his feet as he lead him out the door, Short Round giving Anna an apologetic half-cringe half-smile as he was dragged away.

Anna felt mad for a moment, but then swept up the remaining cards on the floor and shoved them into her pocket. Short Round truly felt like a friend, even if he'd cheated a bit. He'd shown her kindness despite the situation, played a game with her, she felt she could actually talk to someone and at least relate on a few things. So, she swallowed her anger as she walked out the door behind Indiana and Wu Han, heading back out into the open air as the group made for the car.

On their fifth consecutive day of research, the Joneses were searching a newspaper archive. A quick bribe had gotten them into a newspaper company's archival area. Tapes of old radio broadcasts, a few film newsreels, and several aisles filled with filing cabinets of newspapers were what they were met with. Indiana Jones lead the group, counting the dates on the cabinets until they reached around 1900. The cabinets only went for a few more years before that.

Using the keys the custodian had given him, Indiana opened the filing cabinet, dust spilling from the drawers as he searched the hundreds of pages of newspapers inside. Coughing slightly, he sighed, "Well. Let's get to work."

Back nearer to the entrance, Short Round and Anna sat next to each other.

"Okay, your turn. Teach me something else," Anna said as she played another card. After the whole cheating incident the other day, they played a decisively more passive game of go fish while they talked (it also helped that Indy had forbidden Anna to bet anything in games with Short Round, taking the wind out of the sails of any possibility of a poker game).

"Okie," Short Round played a card and drew his lips in thought, "...Nǐ de pímáo shì jīnsè de. It mean: Your fur is golden."

"Nǐ... de... pímáo... what was the rest of it?"

"Shì jīnsè de," Short Round nodded.

"shì jīnsè de... Nǐ de pímáo shì jīnsè de?" Anna said, "Also, uh... Nǐ yǒu shé me... nine of spades?"

"Hēi táo jiǔ. It mean nine of spade. And no, qù diàoyú," Short Round smiled as he shook his head.

Anna chuckled as she drew another card. While she was no means an expert, talking to Short Round had been much more useful for gaining familiarity for the language than 4 months of textbooks had been, "Okay, my turn."

"What the names for soft?" Short Round asked.

"What are the synonyms for soft," Anna corrected, "You can use gentle if you mean the opposite of rough. If you want to emphasize the use of soft, you can use smooth, silky, plush, stuff like that."

"What are the... syn-on-ims," Short Round repeated, looking down at his cards, "Nǐ yǒu hóngxīn wǔ ma?"

"Qoo diàoyú," Anna repeated, a smile spreading across her lips as Short Round drew from the deck again.

"Qù diàoyú, Anna," Short Round corrected.

Anna opened her mouth to have her turn at a question, when Indiana approached from between the archive stacks. Placing a rolled up piece of paper in his bag, he said, "Alright kids. We're packing up early today."

Anna blinked, "Why?"

Wu Han approached Indiana from behind, "We found a lead. A wrecked ship that went missing somewhere north of Ningpo. we think we have its location."

That statement did not clear up even the smallest thing for Anna. Her eyebrows settled as Short Round quickly packed up the cards and stuffed it into a pocket, "Why's that important?" Anna asked.

Indiana, scaling the stairs leading back out of the archives, stopped to allow the others to catch up as he explained, "I guess I didn't tell you. We're looking for the urn containing the ashes of a dead Emperor-"

"-A dead Emperor that Lao Che claims to be the ancestor of," Wu Han added.

Short Round raised a finger and shook it at Anna as he walked past her, "Lao Che very bad! He smuggle bad stuff and bribe many people!"

Anna finally got a move on, making up the tail of the group as they made their way out, "Lao Che is very bad," she corrected, "He smuggles bad stuff and bribes many people."

"Don't be smart, Anna, he didn't grow up learning English," Indiana scolded.

"It okay Doctah Jones, she teach me English while I teach her mandarin," Short Round said.

"Why're we working for this guy again?" Anna asked, raising an eyebrow, "Do we know if he's lying about this emperor being his ancestor?"

"If we get it, Lao Che says he will let me finally bury my ancestor's ashes," Wu Han said.

"And we'll get a diamond worth enough to get you all the way through college, debt-free," Indiana said, "The ashes were stolen from a palace a long time ago and smuggled out on a ship that promptly went missing. We think we know where it's wreck is, which is the best place to look."

"Might be a dud," Wu Han pointed out, "In that case we may be back in this library by the end of the week."

"At least we're going to be finally getting out of this city..." Anna mumbled, rolling her eyes as they ascended up the stairs towards the light of the mid-afternoon sun. Finding a shipwreck sounded cool. Maybe there was going to be more treasure on there than just the urn?

"Hey. Count yourself lucky, I've had research that's lasted months just to find a dead end," Indiana said as they arrived at the car, Short Round running past him to climb into the driver's seat, "At least there won't be any snakes in the middle of the ocean..."

At the mention of the ocean, Anna's knees wobbled a bit as she felt the feeling of slimy, tiny creatures swimming past her legs. She gulped. Ever since that one time at the old Hadley Mine, she'd never been a fan of fish.

She hated fish.

Author's Note

Daring Do, in the chapter books at least, is afraid of fish. She is in fact so much so that she's too afraid to even fly over a moat filled with them.

26: Ningpo, 1935

At the end of the week, Jones and company packed their bags and left the hotel for the port. Their trip would be by steamboat, across the bay to the city of Ningpo where Indiana claimed they would do about a day's worth of research and scheduling transport to finalize the location of the alleged wrecked ship. In the early hours of the morning, they arrived to the docks and boarded a small, shambling, foul-smelling passenger ferry set to cross the bay, Anna had to admit: she'd much preferred the airplane.

"I no get out of Shanghai that often," Short Round said, walking up beside Anna and leaning on the railing, "Not until last year, when your father took me to Nepal."

They stood near the bow of the steamboat on the lowest weather deck, where the water gushed along the hull plating just a few feet below and the early morning fog still drifted by them. Anna leaned her back against the railing, the fresh air of the dew and fog being better than the air in the interior compartments.

Looking over to the boy and away from her atlas (the brand new, updated copy that her grandfather had given her), Anna tilted her head, "'You don't get out of Shanghai that often... You ever left China?"

Short Round nodded, both at the question and at the correction, "Shanghai big- Shanghai is big city, lots of people to work with there, not much reason to leave."

"Shanghai is a big city," Anna said, before shifting her weight around as the bars of the railing dug uncomfortably against her spine, "I mostly stay in America, but when I was little I went to France and England... and New Zealand and Samoa once but I don't really remember that at all," most of Anna's memories from around that time were very fuzzy. The only thing she remembered was the man standing at her door and the same man's guts slowly spilling from a gunshot in his abdomen.

"What is America like?" Short asked, removing his arms from the railing to slide down it and sit next to her. Shuffling over a bit, he looked over her shoulder at the book in her forehooves.

Muttering to herself, Anna flipped through the pages of her Atlas until she got to the section dedicated to the individual states of America, "This is where I live. Connecticut," she traced a hoof up the railroad track from New Haven, before tapping a small dot next to a forest, "Bedford. That's my town."

Short Round squinted at the atlas, "What it like there?"

"What is it like there, or what's it like there," Anna corrected before turning to a page containing a topographical map, "Well it's not really all that different from Shanghai," she pointed at a few, unlabelled lines crossing the map from side to side, "That's latitude. Connecticut and Shanghai are almost on the same one, so if you follow this line far enough right you'll eventually get to China."

"Huh," Short Round nodded slowly to himself, "Does it snow there?"

"Yeah, but Connecticut's a bit colder. It snows a bit more there than it does here," Anna traced a hoof over to some climate information written in the section's one-page information blurb, "We get about five or six days of snow. This year we had a winter that was colder than usual."

"Not here, we did no see any snow," Short Round shrugged, looking up from the map towards Anna as he admitted, "I like snow. I think when Doctah Jones takes me to America, I go live somewhere where there plenty of snow."

"Hmmm..." Anna hummed, flipping through the pages of her atlas again before landing on a few more maps of other states, "This place has a lot of snow. This is Vermont. I think it's the snowiest place in the United States that isn't Alaska."

Short Round's attention was once again brought back to the book as his eyebrows raised, "Where this next to Connecticut?"

Anna's nose scrunched as she was confronted with a tough correction. Eventually, she settled with: "Do you mean where is Vermont relative to Connecticut?"

Short Round blinked blankly.

"When you wanna say where something is while also pointing something else out, you say 'in relation to'. Liiiike, this boat is about fifty miles south in relation to Shanghai."

"Okie dokie," Short Round shrugged, "So where is it?"

"North of Connecticut," Anna flipped back to a wholistic view of the United States, tapping the location of Connecticut before moving northward to Vermont, "It'd only be a day's journey to get there I bet. It takes about that long to get to Chicago. That's where I first grew up, you know?"

"That where Al Capone is from," Short Round pointed out, sagely.

"That is where Al Capone is from," Anna corrected, "I don't think he was from there... I think he was from somewhere else..." Anna muttered, eyes wandering off as she tried to recall.

Short Round, meanwhile, rocked back and forth in his seating position, before eventually speaking up again, "What it like in America? Do you have a house?"

"Yeah," Anna raised an eyebrow, somewhat incredulous at such an obvious question, "Don't you?"

Short Round simply shook his head.

Anna's face fell, "Oh..."

"I use to live in this place of the city called Zhabei. The Japanese come and set the place on fire and bomb it with aeroplanes," Short Round's fidgeting and rocking all ceased as he recounted it. After a pause, though, he resumed with a bit more energy as he resumed eye contact with Anna, "After that, I live on street. I work with opium den gangsters. Then Doctah Jones comes around and hires me to be his assistant. Say that if I useful, I get to go to America one day and have a house and go to school. For now though I stay with Wu Han."

"I'm... sorry..." Anna said. It was all she could think of saying. She went to close her book.

Short Round's fingers clasped the side of the page, pulling it open again as he shrugged, "Why sorry? You no do- You did not anything wrong," pushing the book back open, he returned to his normal position and crossed his arms, "Tell me about your house in Bedford. When I go to America, maybe I get something like that when I come back to Shanghai."

Anna blinked, processing the response for a moment, before he eyebrows settled in confusion, asking: "Wouldn't you want to stay in America?"

"Maybe. But after I learn everything I need to from school, I want to come back here. I don't think I like to stay in America once I grow up," Short Round said, pausing for a moment, before reaching up to rub his chin and nod in exaggerated sageness.

"Well..." Anna looked back to the book and turned to the topographical map of Connecticut, "My house is pretty small compared to some. We have three bedrooms, an indoor bathroom, a study, and a garage-"

"Do you have car?" Short Round immediately asked.

Anna pursed her lips. She would've thought the fact they bought a car here in China would lead one to an obvious conclusion. Still, she answered, "Yes."

"What kind of car?" he pressed further.

"Chevrolet Standard Six," Anna read from memory, "We got it last year because the old one broke down and they couldn't fix it."

Short Round raised a hand and pressed a finger to his right temple, "When I grow up and come back from America, I open garage in Shanghai. Cars becoming very much in the city, so when they break down they come to garage. I get somebody to run garage for me and pay me rent. Then I drive taxi and when I break down nobody rip me off because I own mechanic!" he finished by placing his thumb to his chest.

Anna frowned, before thinking for a moment, and eventually nodding as she accepted the wisdom of his proposal, "You're smart, you know?"

"I very smart," Short Round lowered his hand and raised his chin, "Stupid kids die in Shanghai. I no stupid. I become very rich one day, just like Doctah Jones."

Anna gave a dry chuckle, a smile finally spreading across her face as her vision slowly panned upwards towards the cap sitting on top of Short's head, "...So, you a fan of the Yankees?"

"Who?" Short Round asked, following her gaze upwards and touching the tip of his cap.

"The New York Yankees?" Anna reached up and tapped the logo on the front of the baseball cap.

Taking off the hat and turning it around to face him, Short Round eventually looked back up to her and said, "Doctah Jones buy this for me when we met."

"I like the Yankees," Anna said, "I watch their games in the cinema, and when they have home games I go to New York to watch them."

"I watch one time with Doctah Jones in the cinema," Short Round recounted, "He tell- told me you like it, so that's why he show it to me. That was when he was teaching me how to drive."

Anna's frown soured slightly as she mentally recounted the dates, "...This didn't happen to be summer of last year, did it?"

Short Round nodded mutely.

Anna looked away, "...He was going to take me to watch that in person. But then he had to go to China, and he left me at home. I had to go to that game without him..."

Short Round replaced his baseball cap, "I'm sorry."

Anna heaved a heavy sigh, closing her atlas and shoving it back into its place in her backpack. Standing up, she silently moved past Short Round to head to the prow as the morning sun cut through the fogbank up ahead.

Ningpo was a great sight different to the relatively modern city of Shanghai. After getting off of the ferry at the docks, Anna learned their destination sat somewhere within the city proper. Short Round and Wu Han rode in a hired cart, while Indy and Anna rode in a rickshaw - the two of them wary of riding in wagons drawn by animals after a certain incident in England.

For Anna, being in Ningpo must have been what the time-travellers in her stories felt like when they went back into the dark ages. She saw the occasional automobile, but the streets were all mostly populated by vehicles drawn by animals and people. Gone were the civilized dressings of those back in Shanghai and in were more of the strange and unfamiliar traditional garb. There were thriving markets and a few modern-looking buildings amongst a sea of old and strange.

Despite the wealth of strange and, frankly, exciting things to look at, the conversation between her and Short Round still lingered in her mind. She knew being jealous of a criminal beggar child was ridiculous and a voice in the back of her head told her to be ashamed and embarrassed. Still, though, as she spared a few glances at her father, who was staring blankly away from her deep in thought, she felt an unconquerable desire to confront him.

"Dad, you remember back in last year when you said you'd take me to the Yankees game?" Anna asked.

Indiana blinked and looked back towards her, "Mhm?"

"Well, um..." Anna suddenly wilted, not knowing how to properly express her grievance, "...I saw that baseball cap that Short Round has. He says that he got it after you watched that game... that I wanted to go to, like-" a stutter, "-Erh, like the one we wanted to go to, you went to together instead... in the cinema."

Indiana's forehead creased, "Didn't you get to go to that one with your friends?"

"Well, yeah," Anna looked away, lowering her head.

"We had some spare time and there was a cinema nearby," Indiana said, "I'd like to have seen it with you, Anna, I really would've, there was just important business I needed to get done."

"More important business than me," her subconscious whispered. She didn't have the energy to argue with it... or explain herself more to her father, especially not with how unlikely it seemed it would be for him to understand.

Anna's frown turned glum, "Forget about it..." she muttered.

Indiana's eyes lingered on the back of her head for a few moments, before his vision eventually drifted back off over the streets as he resumed his pondering, rubbing a thumb along his jaw.

They finally arrived on the far side of the city, where they got off and paid for their modes of transport. By then, it was around noon and Anna's stomach rumbled for food. While some of the inner city streets had been paved, out here at the peripheries of the city the streets were mud, still wet from recent storms. Anna's hooves sunk into the ground and she felt the hairs in her nose shrivel as the stench of dung and sewage stunk from the unidentifiable quagmire below her, marked with ruts of wagon wheels back and forth.

Up ahead, a small door-sized gateway lead into some sort of compound between the buildings, Chinese lettering pasted onto the wall next to it. Wu Han waited on the sidewalk, or at least what a sidewalk counted as on a mud street, standing next to the door.

"This is the Chinese side of my family's home," Wu Han said, giving a weak gesture towards the gateway, "They should have a spare room or two."

"You have... another side of your family?" Anna asked, spreading her wings and jumping into a hover in order to avoid the mud from staining her sleeves.

"I am half Dutch," Wu Han simply said, raising a hand towards the gateway, "Please watch yourselves. They are wary of westerners, but are willing to show hospitality because I have assured them you are more sensitive than most."

Indiana's eyes immediately turned towards Anna as he doffed his fedora, "Behave, okay?" he said sternly.

Anna gave an insulted frown, before giving a wandering side-eye towards Short Round, who was not scolded in any such way as he ducked underneath her hind legs to go stand by Wu Han.

"I got a gift to give to them. Good quality cigarettes, imported?" Indiana said, reaching for his back pocket and feeling the box-shaped bump there. Anna vaguely remembered him droning on about something about how having expensive gifts on you at all times was important when travelling outside of America and Europe.

"That should be fine, yes, but I know my grandfather does not smoke, and he is the patriarch..." Wu Han trailed off, before shaking his head and starting: "But it should be more than fine, even the gesture-"

"No, no," Indiana reached over and patted Short Round on the head, "That's why we have assistants. Shorty, do you think you can find some good chocolate to get and bring back before dinnertime?"

"Uh huh!" Short Round nodded.

Indiana reached into his jacket pocket, taking out his wallet. As he thumbed through for a few coins, Anna spoke up, "I could probably fly all the way to the docks and be back in half the time."

"No, Short Round will know his way around better," Indiana dismissed quickly, putting a handful of coins in Short Round's hand, who began to count them as he turned away back towards the street.

"Caaan I go with him?" Anna bargained.

Indiana, once again, shook his head, "No, I want you here."

"Why?"

"Cause I said so."

Anna deflated as she watched Short Round run off. Her father's hand gripped her shoulder and gave a gentle tug, guiding her to follow as they made their way inside. A small corridor followed through the gate, forcing Anna to close her wings and walk behind the two men as they made their way into an interior compound.

Grass grew underhoof, a table and chairs sat along one of the walls, a small pond bordered by stones gubbled with clean water from a fountain, and a tree gave some shelter from the pale sun peeking between the clouds of the overcast sky. All around the courtyard, which was around the size of Anna's front and back yards combined, were doors and windows leading into what could only be a normal-sized house unfolded into a square-shaped complex.

What could only be Wu Han's family came out to greet them. There were a few children, going from around Short Round's age up to the eldest - a teenager. There were women and men, whom Wu Han referred to as 'auntie' and 'uncle' as he introduced them. A conversation was exchanged in rapid-fire Chinese, of which Anna could not understand a word of. She was used to Short Round talking to her slowly and clearly, and even then her error rate for understanding him was very high.

Many strange looks were aimed towards her, which she was more or less used to at this point. Indiana gave her a quickly whispered command to mimic him as he bowed his head politely and greeted. She mirrored him as commanded and the eyes of many widened when she muttered a greeting in Chinese (at first, she was worried she had said something wrong, but after a moment she realized they were more likely surprised she could talk at all).

After a moment, one more woman walked from the entrance to the buildings, supporting a very elderly man who walked with one arm on a cane and the other around the woman. A long, thin white beard grew from his chin, robes adorned his figure, and his eyes were heavily squinted. Though, as he approached, his head raised from its hunched-over position to stare at her squarely.

"This is my grandfather," Wu Han said in English, "And... the woman is my eldest aunt. She was the twin to my mother."

Indiana nodded towards Wu Han, before giving one final greeting towards the two newcomers. Anna quickly mirrored him, trying not to stare back at the squinting elder.

As soon as the greetings were over, the patriarch raised his cane and pointed it at her, before quickly placing it back onto the ground with a slap. He then said something in a low, weak voice to the woman supporting him, who leaned in to hear him. Anna's ears could pick it up, but couldn't make any sense of it - the words had such a slant to them that she was unsure if she was hearing a heavy accent or a dialect.

Wu Han's aunt eventually nodded as the whispering finished and looked towards the westerners, saying in something in Chinese towards Indiana. He gave a slight smile in response, before shaking his head and responding - his words once again too fast for Anna to translate. Fortunately, though, after finishing his response he turned towards Anna and said, "He asked if you were a spirit."

"Mhmmm..." Anna muttered, eyebrows lowered and forehead creased as she looked around.

They were soon ushered inside and shown their room. They had only one room to spare for Wu Han and the foreigners. All it contained was a double bed, a couch, a window looking out into the courtyard, a painting with an artistic style Anna hadn't seen before, and a wardrobe right next to it.

"There's only one bed," Anna pointed out the obvious.

"We'll sleep on it together," Indiana said, shrugging off his bag and placing it in a corner, prompting Anna to do the same.

As she slung her backpack towards the side of the dresser, Anna asked, "Huh?"

"Well unless you'd like to sleep on the floor, Wu Han says he'll take the couch, Shorty will probably take a blanket on the floor, and I'd personally rather like a mattress to sleep on. There's plenty room for someone as small as you," Indiana said casually.

Anna knew that proper girls never slept with men before marriage... especially not their own fathers! This horror came through on her face as she hovered there, backpack still looped around one foreleg, staring at Indiana like he'd turned blue.

Indy, eventually meeting her gaze, just laughed, "Anna, if you're so desperate to travel like me, you're going to have to learn to live rough sometimes. That means sleeping, completely platonically, next to other people sometimes. You'll definitely appreciate it when you're in somewhere with a freezing average temperature at night."

"I'll... pass..." Anna eventually muttered, looking down at the floor, where a mat covered a part of it. It surely couldn't be that bad, right?

"If you can get a good night's sleep on the floor, I'll be proud of you," Indiana teased, punching her lightly in the shoulder as he moved out the door and back into the hall.

Fortunately, Anna's dietary preferences were communicated far enough in advance to include a full vegetarian option in the meal. After lunch, which seemed to be a fairly rushed affair as most of the family left the home soon after and the patriarch went down for a nap, Anna found herself killing some time in the courtyard. She found herself sitting at the table, the atlas open to the maps on China as she took a red pencil and marked it with a thin, red line that marked the route they had taken, originating all the way in Bedford.

Wu Han's voice caught her ear, making it pivot towards him as he asked from behind her: "What are you doing?"

"Killing time," Anna muttered, boredly, shifting around in her seat, "How about you?"

"Reminiscing," Wu Han said, walking past her and placing a hand on a chair to her right, "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Better than sitting around alone," Anna sighed, putting away her pencil and ruler before closing her book.

"Doctor Jones said you really wanted to come along on this expedition?" Wu Han asked, folding his arms as his eyes trailed out overhead towards the pond and tree, "You don't seem to be having very much fun."

"Not really all it was chalked up to be," Anna said, leaning an elbow against the tabletop and supporting her cheek with a hoof.

"What were you expecting, then?" he then inquired, resting his chin on a fist and looking out towards the pond.

"Just some time with Dad, doing things I think we might both be interested in," Anna mumbled, eyes drifting downwards.

Wu Han hummed, "Not having much luck?"

Anna was unwilling to show her entire hand to the man quite yet, so she simply settled with saying: "I feel like I'm spending a lot more time with that kid than with Dad."

"Did he not frame this as a business trip to you?" Wu Han asked, the lack of confusion in his voice suggesting he already knew the answer.

Anna rolled her eyes at that realization, "I didn't expect his 'business' to be days on end of sitting around doing nothing. I could be doing that at home, but at home I'd have things like my friends, the freedom to go and fly around wherever I want, and at least the late afternoon and dinnertime to actually spend with him."

"His work has always tended to have a lot of slow moments that he must not talk a lot about," Wu Han nodded sympathetically, his eyes leaving the peace of the garden and going towards her, "Then, there may be a few extremely dramatic days. Sometimes. We never hope for those dramatic days, though."

"Speak for yourself, I'd like something to happen," Anna grumbled, "Do you think at least the journey out to the shipwreck will be interesting?"

"I think examining the remains may be historically interesting," he gave her a coy smile, "But it's likely the ship has been stripped clean by looters long ago. It will very likely be a dead end."

Anna hissed at that, looking away and muttering under her breath, ears angrily flattened down against her skull and tail tossing. Despite this, Wu Han continued after only a short pause.

"Anna, this is far from the first time I have worked with your father. I do not look forward to the dramatic days, but I enjoy the slow ones very much," he took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat, "Like this one. Sitting underneath the leaves of the tree, feeling the cool late-winter air, watching the fishpond..."

Anna suddenly perked up, staring at the pond, "Fishpond?" she mouthed, staring straight at it. Now that she was fully focused on it, she saw a few, black shapes moving beneath the slightly murky water. Her heart rate rose dramatically.

"The dramatic days are the ones I dread, actually. People always die on the dramatic days. So far, it has been the enemies of Doctor Jones. Next time, I am afraid..."

A splash came from the pond as one of the fish inside attacked a seedling of some kind that had dropped into its surface. The thrash was enough to make Anna scream in fear, jump out of her seat, knock her knee painfully against the bottom of the table, before flying off in a panicked fury of beating wings and loose feathers.

Wu Han, left stunned and mid-sentence, looked up from his place at the table at the golden dot quickly disappearing against the skies overhead. Creasing his forehead, he eventually looked away and back to his peaceful surroundings, "Was it something I said?" he asked himself.

Short Round returned sometime that afternoon, just in time for dinner. While most of the dishes available had some sort of meat in them, Anna's was fully vegetarian. Once again, Indiana was absorbed in reading and polite conversation in Chinese with the rest of the table, who themselves had no conversation for her. After the early morning start for the ferry, she was fully tuckered out.

As promised, she attempted to sleep with nothing but the floormat beneath her and a blanket around her. However, about an hour or so after rolling around a bit on the hard floor, bones constantly digging against her skin as the hardwood boards pressed against them, she gave in and climbed into the actual bed next to her father. He had been right, there was plenty of space for her, and although the mattress was by no means soft, she eventually found sleep...

...only to be awoken five hours later by an early start.

Being given her already packed backpack, having apparently been allowed to sleep in after everyone else had gotten up, she was promptly dragged out the door and to a rickshaw bound for the docks. Their transport out to the island was going to be aboard a fishing boat, which wanted to take them early before their regular work in the fishing lanes began.

So, it was through the misty morning streets that they went, Anna dozing off a few more times until they reached the port, where she finally summoned enough energy to wake herself up and follow the group. Upon noticing Anna's vigor finally return, Indiana made a comment, "Sleeping on the floor is harder than it seems, huh?"

Anna was tempted to say something rude, but simply rolled her eyes instead.

They all approached the boat, bobbing up and down in the water next to the port. The trawler was nothing special, layered in the correct amount of rust and grime that Anna had come to expect since arriving in China. As the boat puttered out to sea, she tried to stoke the flames of her enthusiasm. They were going to see a shipwreck, that was going to be exciting, right?

It was hard to even keep her eyes open long enough to fully enjoy the journey. She'd not been getting proper sleep since arriving in China and the last night had been an extreme example.

"That's something I don't really tell you about, you know?" Indiana said.

They all sat together near the aft of the ship as it puttered out to sea. There was hardly room for the crew to move about freely on its tiny hull, so its passengers had to make do with squeezing themselves into benches on the weather deck and keeping out of the way.

"What?" Anna asked, rubbing an eye as she looked up at her father.

"The messy details of travelling," Indiana elaborated, toying with his fedora in his hands as he spoke, "Trying to catch sleep, constantly travelling around, being in places without some of the amenities we take for granted."

Anna narrowed her eyes as she examined his face. There was a slight, smug grin on his face. A knowing grin, one that told her the man was almost... enjoying the sight of her struggling. She gave a derisive snort, "Well you've clearly had plenty of time to get used to it."

Indiana gave a humorous chuckle, reaching over to rub her head, "Looking forward to being back in your own bed?"

"I'd be perfectly happy to be in Bedford if you would be there with me," Anna thought to herself as she frowned in annoyance at her father's hand digging at her scalp.

She was far too uncomfortable to doze off. As much as she wanted to go for a fly, she both knew she lacked the energy to enjoy it and knew Indiana wouldn't allow it. So, she sat, stewing as they swayed together in the back of the small ship as it bobbed up and down with the endless swells of the waves. The more she sat, though, the more her stomach slowly unsettled as she succumbed to seasickness.

By the time their trip ended, the sun coming up on the horizon, she'd thrown up twice and been left to languish after returning to her seat from the side of the ship. There was little the adults could do to comfort her and she was not much for conversation with Short Round. She envied the boy's ability to seemingly phase out reality, staring off into the distance at a whim and allowing the time to pass.

Finally, though, after sailing aimlessly for a while they found their destination. A remote atoll, with only a few scraggly palms sticking up from its sandy surfaces, just a little while away. Anna spread her wings to fly towards it, desperate to get back to solid ground, but as she went into a hover, her tail was grabbed and pulled down by her father. Indiana quickly pushed past the grounded girl, raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

"I see it," he said, "Right there. You can see wooden ribbing poking out of the sand."

Anna reached into her backpack, pulling out her own pair of binoculars to try and spot it as well. Along one of the wave-washed, rocky beaches was the skeleton of an old, wooden ship. She could see a mast broken and crashed over, the rags of sails and shattered planks lying all around it. Despite the wreck not being that extremely old, it was clear storm and wind had done a lot of damage to its exposed body as it slowly sunk in the sand.

The ship finally reached the beach, its hull being shallow enough to allow its passengers to climb down its side and wade in through the water. Anna, at least, was allowed to fly from the ship's side to the shore. She sat on the beach, trying to shake the sickness in her stomach while the rest caught up.

The shipwreck, in full close relief, was not massive by any means. It was a simple, single-masted clipper. Anna could have imagined it carrying no more than ten or twenty crew members. Over the years, parts of it had become buried in sand, while the rear of it had sunk into the ocean. The waves still lapped the rotting planks making up the wreck, even at low tide.

"This looks like the ship that took the Peacock's Eye from you back in 1919," Anna commented, recalling one of her father's many stories.

"No, that ship was triple masted," Indiana dismissed, distracted as he kept his eyes on its shattered form and lead them forward.

"Youuu said it was double-masted," Anna corrected.

"Did I?" Indiana furrowed his brow, looking down and kicking the end of the fallen mast with his right foot, "Well it was triple. This one is single."

"Hopefully the water hasn't ruined the ashes," Wu Han commented, pointing towards the rear of the ship, partially submerged in the water, "The cargo hold is likely back there."

"It's not like they can tell whose ashes will be in it. The object itself is made out of jade, it'd have survived, that's all that matters," Indiana muttered, ducking through the hull ribbing.

Anna followed right behind him, eyes widening with curiosity as she gazed around. There was a musty smell of seawater and moldy wood hanging around her and soft, wet sand enveloped her hooves. The interior of the cracked-open hull, aside from being eerie and old, held very little of actual interest however. There were a few rotten, woven baskets in a corner, bundles of wet and ragged fabric in the forecastle, and a few spools of useless rope.

Indiana's attention was turned to the rear, where a layer of water rolled and swelled with the incoming waves. Wu Han was with him as Short Round poked around with a similar level of curiosity to Anna's.

Something stood out from the greenish-brown wood and the blackened rot of the rest of the waterlogged equipment of the ship. Anna narrowed her eyes and crouched down, digging with a forehoof at the sand as she revealed a small, rusted hook. Its end was blunted by its age, and it fit in the frog of her hoof. A keepsake, perhaps. At least she could say she extracted something vaguely historical from the wreck. At the sound of splashing from behind her, she quickly dusted off the hook and placed it in a pocket of her bag, turning around to see the source of the noise.

Indiana had given his fedora to Short Round, before entering the water soaking the rear portions of the hull. With a deep breath, he submerged, disappearing below the dark and murky water soon afterwards. The thought of other things being in the water with him did not make Anna envy his task.

Soon enough, he re-emerged, shaking his head and blinking seawater out of his eyes, "Nothing. This is a dead end."

After doing a few final checks of the island, the group returned back to the ship to be dropped back off at the mainland. It was as Wu Han had suspected, the ship had already been looted of all of its cargo, leaving only behind the dilapidated and waterlogged baskets, hammocks and ropes.

"What now?" Anna had asked.

"Back to Shanghai. We'll have to try and find another lead. Whoever looted the wreckage would probably have sold Nurhachi somewhere. We can try and get it back that way," Indiana sighed, leaning back in his seat and pulling his damp hat down over his eyes, "This is why this sort of thing always takes months to do."

Anna had not gotten any more used to the bobbing of the ship on the way back to port. She was fortunate that they had not brought anything to eat, or else she surely would have simply just thrown it up again as they made their return trip. How she wished for the big, stable ferry they had taken to Ningpo, or even better the passenger liner that Uncle Marcus had taken her to Europe on several times now.

Jeez, was she really wishing to travel with Uncle Marcus? Had she really fallen that low after just a week or so of adventuring?

She pondered that as they moored at port, being ushered quickly off by the crew as they hurriedly took payment and refueled their ship, having very little time to wait around at the docks. The plan was to find a place to eat before taking the afternoon ferry back across the bay to Shanghai.

Anna tried to make her father promise that it would be a ferry large enough to not bob around constantly with the waves, yet she was stayed as he spotted a strange figure waiting for them at the pier. She followed his gaze, seeing a Chinese man in a black suit and a similarly colored hat.

Indiana reached a hand down to rest on the holster on his belt, for the first time reminding Anna of her own pocket revolver. Still, though, they both kept from any hostile movements as the man grew closer and bowed his head.

"You are Doctor Jones?" he asked in accented English.

"Who's asking?" Indiana asked, stepping forward to place himself between the man and Anna.

The man gave a slight smile, "You are searching for the Ashes of Nurhachi. We are in possession of what you need and may be willing to arrange for a... trade."

Author's Note

Sorry for the delay on this one. Experiencing a bit of burnout after going so hard on this project for so long. Don't worry though, I just need a bit of a slow-down before I continue posting. These next two chapters might be especially hard since I need to write them from scratch, the old versions of them were lost.

Canonicity note: Short Round is meant to have met Indy, gone on one novelized adventure with him, learned how to drive, and foiled the Temple of Doom all within the timespan of 1935. This is obviously a bit of a time-squash, so here they met a year or so earlier.

27: Nurhachi, 1935

Indiana Jones and Wu Han stalked down the streets of the busy dockyard district, the sun high overhead. Chinese workers in plainclothes rushed to and fro, hauling carts and cargo to maintain the flow of trade through the expansive harbor. Warehouses and stores bustled with activity, housing fresh freight and starving sailors. Seagulls cried overhead and the wind whistled subtly in from the sea.

The activity of the industrialized area was what made his destination stand out so much.

It was a two-storey, stone brick building, reclaimed for use in industrial activities. Despite being prominent in its location within the yards, it was crumbling and old. Vines overgrew sides of it, some of the shingles had popped off, shutters for the glassless windows were on crooked, rusted hinges. Yet, the old building was obviously not abandoned. Several unmarked crates were stacked out in its yard, ready for transport, being guarded by men with sober countenances and shifty eyes.

A prime headquarter for a smuggling ring, Indy was sure. The fact that it stood out probably didn't matter when the authorities were happily paid off to turn the other way, and a lack of activity was probably due to the fact that the only legitimate cargo these types ferried only existed to disguise the illicit materials that circulated through them.

Several of the 'workers' traced their fingers across the handles of machetes, clubs, and even a few hidden holsters. Being an American in a relatively traditional city, touring through with a rather strange form of teenage girl, Indy was used to attracting a few stares. Now, though, he knew all too well these weren't the stares of curious locals, these were the stares of predators, ready to leap into action at the first sign of weakness.

He gave a side-glance to Wu Han, muttering a quiet, "Be careful," to him.

Wu Han nodded, subconsciously washing a hand over the holster of a revolver stuck into his belt.

Indiana's eyes met the face of a familiar man. The same man in a suit that had met him at the docks just two hours ago. He gave Indy a tiny, malignant smile as he said, "Doctor Jones, good to see that you have accepted our invitation."

"I'll have to see Nurhachi before anything exchanges hands," Indiana said. The lump of cash in his pocket, the last he had of his expendable investments, weighed against his left breast.

"Of course," the man said, before looking to his side and nodding at one of the men lounging on nearby crates, "We will have to search you before you come inside, of course."

"Of course," Indiana parroted, spreading out his arms as the guard came close to pat him down.

The guard moved up his legs, then across his coat, before hitting something hard and frowning. He reached into Indiana's jacket pocket, grabbing onto its handle and pulling it out with prejudicial force. His determined face turned to confusion as he revealed a plus-size magnifying glass that glimmered slightly in the sun.

"My tools," Indiana said nonchalantly, reaching into the same location the glass had been taken out from and revealing a small brush and a photo camera, "Are you expecting an archaeologist not to bring along the equipment necessary to verify the authenticity of your relic?"

The suited man raised his nose and glanced towards the guard. The latter grunted, before shoving the glass back into Indy's hands and casting his glance towards Wu Han. Indiana moved to place his tools back in their place in his jacket, right over top of the revolver they had been concealing.

"Wu Han's not coming inside. He'll wait out here," Indiana said, causing the guard to pause as he moved to search the other Chinese man.

"Very well," the suited smuggler said, voice stern as he turned around and laid a hand on the doorknob, "Come inside, Doctor."

With a final nod towards Wu Han, who took up a place leaning against a nearby lamp post, Indy followed the man inside.

As soon as Indiana was through the door, the strong smell of the stink of fish and other sea life immediately washed over him. The poorly aerated interior of the warehouse was humid and filled with rotting stench of poorly cleaned areas. A thin trail of smoke hung in the air, incense if Indy had to guess, though it did not mask the smell. Chinese incense was rarely very heavily scented.

The source of the smoke became apparent as they entered a decorated room a few doors down from the hallway that lead in. A western-type table sat in the center of the room, a single object cloaked with a black cloth sitting in the center. Two suited men sat on couches to either side of it, and an elderly, grey man in traditional clothing sat at the head of the table. Indiana's eyes went to the two sitting by the walls, and specifically to the long guns resting within arm's reach of them.

A chair sat on Indy's side of the table, opposite the old man. If he were to sit there and his escort step out of the way, there would be nothing behind him but the door leading into the room should the two men with long guns decide to open fire. A standard corridor of death. Surely enough, his escort extended a hand to gesture towards the seat, before safely taking a position by the wall on the far left side of the room.

Indiana reached up and took off his fedora, the feeling of its worn leather hide in his hands cooling his nerves slightly as he sat down. With a slight grin, he asked, "So, do all of your black market exchanges come with so much firepower?"

The elder at the head of the table gave a glance towards the goon to his left, before looking back at Indy and saying, "In my own place of business, there no such thing as too much caution, Doctor."

Indiana nodded softly, before looking down at the cloth-covered object, "Is this the urn?"

The grey man gave a signal to one of his accomplices, who reached forward and pulled the covering clear. He revealed a jade funerary urn, lavishly carved and decorated with sculptures of dragons clutching around the main body of the jar. It was slightly translucent, bouncing around the pale light filtering through the smoke from one of the windows. The lighting gave it a bluish-green hue.

Indiana leaned forward, reaching into his jacket pocket. This move made hands tense on the handles of weapons, though all he did was give them a dubious glance upwards as he pulled out his magnifying glass. Their arms relaxed as he peered through its lens, examining the minute features of the urn.

He saw the signs of oceanic erosion, indicating its time in the hull of the ship. The craftsmanship of the urn placed its creation sometime around the 1600s. He checked for all the classic signs of fake aging, finding none of them. Surely, if he couldn't tell this one apart from the real one, none of Lao's men would be able to either.

It was unwise to attempt a baldfaced lie when staring down the barrels of weapons wielded by twitchy smugglers. Still, if he paid full price for the object, he wouldn't have a margin. He pursed his lips, feigning apathy as he placed his hand lens down on the table and claimed, "Looks genuine enough. Would make a neat side-exhibit somewhere, but it's more likely to rot in a storehouse for a few years," a pause, "I can get you a thousand for it."

An unsettling shiver ran down Indy's spine as the elderly man suddenly smiled. Resting his hands on his knees, he said in a confident tone, "So. This is the real one, then."

"Real, but not that historically exciting. I'm sure you could maybe get a better price from the government, but not before they'd chop your hands off for stealing it," Indiana jabbed back, hands tensing as his heart thumped up against the cold iron in his pocket.

The man reached towards a newspaper sitting beside him. The paper, aged and yellowing, rustled as he held it out towards Indiana, "Not a very responsible father, Doctor Jones. It is never intelligent to involve children in the business of gangsters and thieves like ourselves."

Indiana looked down at the presented paper. It was dated from 1927 and was turned to the page about international news. On it, printed in low-quality black and white, was a photograph of him and Anna on the steps of the Supreme Court. The headline, written in Chinese, had his last name on it. His eyes drifted farther down, past the paper, noticing a book wedged underneath one of the table legs close to him, keeping the table flat and upright.

"I can assure you," Indiana said coolly, moving his foot discreetly to nudge the book out from under the leg, "She's always in a very safe place when I'm conducting my business, just like she is now."

"Perhaps, perhaps..." the man said, withdrawing the paper from the table. His eyes moved back up to fix Indiana's as his voice grew low, "Only a very brave man attempts to come onto Lu Heng's territory when working for one of his greatest rivals. The brave man becomes stupid by bringing in so many vulnerable accomplices as well."

A shotgun and a submachinegun were raised, rested on the knees of the two guards and levelled at Indiana's chest. Indiana's jaw clenched as he doubled his efforts to work his shoe underneath the table leg.

"We have your daughter and young assistant subdued already, Doctor Jones. Now, I think it is time that we begin new negotiations..." Lu Heng said, reaching up to stroke his beard as the SMG-wielding minion pulled the charging handle, sending out a threatening 'CLICK-CLACK'.

Indiana's lips pulled into a thin line. His heart raced at the idea of Anna being kidnapped once again, and he feared some of that emotion came to his face as his eyes quavered. This had to be a bluff. Anna had been fine the last time he saw her and was holding a position at high altitude, where no man could get her. Short Round, perhaps, could have been grabbed, but the kid was slippery, and by now had a vehicle to protect himself with.

Still, the last thing to do when you believed you knew somebody's bluff was to let them know about it.

"Is this for ransom?" Indiana guessed, keeping his hands on his knees as his boot came fully underneath the table leg.

"Lao Che has brought many years of shame upon my family, Doctor Jones. You will help me assassinate him, or else great pain and suffering will befall your family," Heng said, looking down towards the urn, "You were sent here to retrieve and deliver his ancestor's precious ashes. You will give it to him, and it will contained a timed device. Do this, and your family will be freed."

Indiana needed to buy more time, make a distraction. Was he going to call them on their bluff now? No, doing so might escalate things. In a hurry, he came up with an offer, "I have US military contacts that know full well about Anna's status. They'll come looking for you. How much do you want to jeopardize your position here with foreign nationals crawling all over Ningpo? Why don't I just cut you a deal? Huh? Ten thousand American dollars, and I we settle this whole matter like businessmen?"

Lu Heng, much to Indiana's relief, seemed to cautiously consider the offer, "If your government cares so much, you can find the contacts to make that offer into thirty thousand."

"I-" Indiana began, before he was suddenly cut off by a loud, sharp noise.

BANG!

No bullets flew in the room, but fingers tensed on triggers all the same. Acting on pure instinct, Indiana flung himself into action, launching the table into the air and rolling over as the submachinegun began to rattle, punching a volley of holes in the upended tabletop and the chair back he had been sitting against.

Nurhachi flew through the air as the table flipped, smacking with a hollow 'THUNK' against Lu Heng's head. It smacked against the floor shortly after, lid popping off and a small trail of grey ash following behind it as it rolled across the wooden flooring.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Indiana drew in a single, practiced maneuver as he hit the floor. Aiming up at the suited man who had guided him in, who himself was reaching for something on his belt, he fired twice, one bullet hitting the chest and the other hitting his neck.

Immediately, he whirled around and fired through the perforated table that was giving him visual cover against the two gunmen. The bullet travelled straight through the wood and a spray of blood splattered onto the wall from the man hiding behind it.

Indiana had very little time to lose as he rolled over again, trying to get into a position where he could safely clamber to his feet. The submachinegunner surged up onto the couch, finally getting a visual over the table. He levelled his weapon, but couldn't quite squeeze the trigger before Indiana grabbed the chair he had previously sat in, swinging in a desperate jab towards his weapon.

The chair broke against the submachinegunner's hands, causing a spray of bullets to go wide. As the gunman brought his weapon to bear again, he had a brief instant where he stared down the sights of Indy's gun. Without a second thought, Indiana pulled the trigger, driving a bullet straight through the man's skull.

With very little time to lose, Indiana spared a look towards the patriarch of the Heng smugglers, who was busy clutching his forehead and lying on his back. Reaching down, he scooped up Nurhachi's urn (and his fedora, which had fallen down next to it), making sure to replace the plug keeping the contents inside, before charging towards the door, awkwardly holding the artefact under an arm.

He fired off one more shot as he ran down the hall towards the exit, suppressing some backup from elsewhere in the building. The light of the noonday sun shone down on his back as he backpedalled out the door, turning around to face possible threats outside.

Several of the plainclothed gangsters stood around, surrounding him. The civilians along the road had dispersed. One of the smugglers gripped Anna tightly, a revolver placed firmly against her temple as she squirmed. On the ground to her right, Wu Han sat against the lamp post he had leaned against earlier, clutching his head as he looked around woozily. Five smugglers, not all of them armed with guns, but still dangerous nonetheless, against just one of him.

"Fàngxià qiāng!" the smuggler holding Anna hostage demanded.

"Dad help!" Anna screamed.

Indiana took in a breath of disbelief, "Okay! Okay!" he said, raising his gun-wielding hand and opening it, keeping the revolver in place with just his thumb, "I'm dropping it! Wǒ yào bǎ tā rēng diào!" He responded.

The sound of a roaring engine approached. Indiana's mind raced as the shadow of an idea formed in his soup of half-formed thoughts. He began to, very slowly, place the gun down. One of the mobsters, armed with a mallet, moved to disarm him.

The engine's roaring grew loud. Some looked towards its direction, only to balk as a truck exploded around a corner and rammed itself straight through the center of the road, brakes screeching. The criminal that had gone to disarm Indy was smashed by the truck's fender, quickly flying up and over the hood with the crunch of bone. The others quickly dove out of the way as the truck carried forward, including the man holding Anna hostage.

As soon as the truck stopped blocking their line of sight, the hostage-taker found Indiana's gun levelled at just the right spot. Before his mind could process what was happening, Indiana pulled the trigger on the last cartridge in the cylinder. The smuggler's gun clattered to the floor as he slumped, blood from his head painting the wall behind him.

"ANNA! IN THE TRUCK! NOW!" Indiana demanded, running over to where Wu Han laid and grabbing his arm.

Wu Han moaned as he was hauled into a standing position, "Sorry, Indy- they came up behind me and had a rag-"

"Not the time!" Indiana informed his colleague, who was likely still dazed from his dose of chloroform.

The truck had stopped only a few feet away. The man who had been hit was very certainly incapable of putting up more of a fight, but his friends were on the way as they got back to their feet from where they had jumped away from the road. Indiana opened the truck bed, helping Wu Han stumble onto it before turning around and looking for Anna.

Anna still lay on the side of the road, staring horrified at the corpse of the dead man lying beside her. One of the smugglers who had dove onto her side of the road charged at her with a long, sharp cargo hook.

Without even thinking, Indiana's hand went for his whip. It lashed out, striking the hook and ripping it from the man's hand. Following up, Indiana charged forward, swept his leg and followed it up with a swift kick to his side. Reaching down to where the dead mobster had dropped his (loaded) gun, Indiana quickly levelled it at two more incoming smugglers, sending them both to the dirt.

Pocketing the spare revolver, Indiana grabbed his daughter by the collar, hauling her up to his eye level as he screamed at her, "TRUCK! NOW!"

Anna, snapped out of her reverie, nodded mutely. Her wings finally started working again as Indy let her go, and without further hesitation she flew towards the open bed of the truck.

As soon as she was out of his grip, though, a sharp pain roared through Indy's back as a long, wooden pole smashed against him. He whirled to find one of the smugglers had caught up, armed with a boat oar. Just as the man reared up for another blow, Indiana fought through his daze to grab the oar with a right hand and deliver a hook across the chin with his left. The smuggler instinctively released one of his hands from the oar to protect his face, giving Indy the opportunity to rip it from his hands and thrust the handle end of the oar into his stomach.

The force knocked the smuggler onto his back, gasping for air as his diaphragm spasmed. Indiana turned to see two more approaching and took a defensive position, only for shots to ring out from the back of the truck.

Wu Han, even while fighting through intoxication, was able to limply fire his weapon, which evidently the gangsters hadn't had taken off of him. The covering fire was enough to cow the smugglers for long enough for Indy to risk a dash towards the truck. He heard its engine turn over as he vaulted up over the lowered gate and onto the truckbed.

"Punch it, Shorty!" he demanded, raising the gate and locking it in place.

Short Round's voice came from the front, indecipherable due to its faintness behind the glass window separating the bed from the cab. Still, the engine turned over again from its stalled state and the truck began to rumble forward.

A suited man, likely one of the top men of the Lu Heng ring that Indy hadn't inadvertently assassinated, emerged from the exit of the warehouse with a familiar-looking submachine gun. Anna screamed as it rattled, chewing open gaps in the flimsy fencing around the truckbed. The engine stuttered as Short Round quickly shifted gears, urging it faster and faster as they put distance between them and the Lu Heng hideout.

Breathing raggedly, Indiana reached into his pocket, grabbing the first gun handle he could grip. He pulled out the spare revolver, the one he'd stolen from the dead mobster. He opened its cylinder, checking the chamber. Three bullets had been fired, despite only two having gone off during Indy's initial engagement.

That was when he realized the handgun looked familiar. It was the small pocket revolver he'd given Anna for her self defense.

Closing the cylinder again and peeking up over the loading gate of the truck, he saw the hideout disappearing behind them, along with the smugglers. He checked his watch, they were still on time. Despite this, he did not breathe a sigh of relief as a spike of adrenaline-fueled anger came through him and he turned towards Anna.

"Anna! What did I tell you about staying with Shorty if there was trouble!?" Indiana screamed at her.

Anna shielded her face with her hooves, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! They were trying to kill Wu Han! I had to do something!"

"They were threatening to kill you, you know that!?" Indiana shouted, feeling unusually riled up as he lunged forward and grabbed her by the collar, "This is why I told you to listen to me! This is why you should've stayed with Marcus! You nearly got everyone killed! Even me, Anna!"

Anna was wordless as she looked up at him, eyes full of tears and muzzle twisted into a terrified gape. Her entire body shook as she hung helplessly in her father's clenched fists.

A deep wave of regret washed over Indiana, cooling the fire of rage. Immediately, he dropped her, looking away and back towards the road behind them. There was still nobody following, only a curtain of pedestrians that had split to dodge the speeding truck as its rumbled forward towards the sea.

Only a few minutes later, Short Round applied the brakes as the truck clumsily mounted the curb and stopped. The ferry to Shanghai was only a few feet away, currently taking aboard passengers. Indiana turned to grab his bags, shrugging them over a shoulder as he kicked open the loading gate and began to scrabble out. Short Round exited the cab ahead of him, eyes wide.

"You got Nurhachi, Doctah Jones?" Short Round asked, kicking off the blocks of wood tied around his shoes and picking them up.

Indiana didn't answer that, only looking back to the cab where Anna still made herself small against one of the walls, terrified. Looking away from her with a wince, he ordered, "Shorty, make sure Anna gets on the boat."

"Okie dokie!" Short Round said, mounting one of the wheels to climb over into the bed.

Indiana, meanwhile, grabbed Wu Han's arm and helped him up, the other man's legs still shaky and balance infirm as he limped down onto the ground. Together, they made their way into the crowd and towards the gangplank.

"I nearly got everyone killed!" Anna nearly screamed, jerking away from Short Round's touch.

Short Round blinked, "I sure it not so bad, now come on, we get on ferry now to make sure they don't catch up!"

"I- I was so stupid!" Anna hyperventilated, "A-and, the- he, the blood, he was dead-"

Short Round looked over his shoulder down the road. At this point, he was beginning to be more concerned about the dock authorities coming out to harass them for nearly running down pedestrians. He more authoritatively grabbed forward for one of her legs, pulling at her, "Come on Anna, it time to go! Come on! Come on!"

Anna, however, seemed to be beyond reason at that point. Her words became incomprehensible as she ran herself out of breath from hyperventilation. Tears streamed down her face as she blubbered, still glued to the floor of the truckbed. She was far too heavy for Short to drag out himself.

Short Round placed a hand on Anna's shoulder, locking her squinted eyes, "I know how bad it is Anna. I very small, but I know very much! You will breathe slow and come with me, okie dokie?"

Anna met his eyes, before eventually, finally nodding and accepting his support as she scrabbled onto all fours. Looking over his shoulder constantly, Short Round guided her off the truckbed, leapt to the ground, and sprinted with her towards the boarding ramp.

As the ferry cast off, leaving the smuggler controlled territory, nerves finally calmed amongst the group. Anna's shock and fear froze over, turning into despair as she continued to weep uncontrollably. Indiana's regret grew deeper as he sat on the row across from her, hands clasped in front of him as his mind slowly deconstructed the moments of the heist.

Wu Han had recovered fully after an hour's rest aboard the ferry. He explained what he knew, saying that a while after Indiana had gone inside, a pair of smugglers had attempted to knock him out with a chloroform rag. Anna, who had been posted as a lookout with instructions to fly to signal Short Round at the first sign of trouble, had instead drawn her gun and fired at the men trying to kidnap Wu Han.

That had been the bullet that had set off the gunmen inside the warehouse with Indiana. She'd missed, of course. That had been the first time she fired a weapon in anger, it was an entirely different experience trying to aim in an actual fight versus trying to hit a target in a range. Short Round, for his part, had simply turned over the engine and floored it as soon as he heard shooting, arriving in the nick of time.

Anna was too distraught to offer any meaningful insight. Indiana knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that it would be right to go and comfort her. However, the ferry was crowded and the seas were rough, it just wasn't the right time, and he needed to think over what exactly he was going to say.

Nurhachi rested in his lap. It had somehow managed to escape the scuffle unscathed, with most of the ash still inside. He could arrange to hand it off the very next day. Just one more night in Shanghai, then they would take the first flight out of the country. He could worry about finding connecting travel routes back to America later, once they were far out of reach of the mobsters.

He could talk to her later, when it was better. In the hotel, on the plane, back in Bedford. It would be better for both of them if he had time to collect his thoughts and address her in a calmer environment.

The ferry pulled into port in Shanghai by evening. The entire group was dead silent as they disembarked and headed for the hotel. As Short Round drove them across the city, back into the International Settlement and to the hotel, Indiana once again considered bringing up the subject with Anna. However, he sat in the front seat, and her in the seat directly behind him. As he turned to look, he saw Wu Han, looking back at him from his place next to her.

Indiana changed his mind and looked back out towards the road. He'd consult Wu Han for advice while Anna got a chance to unwind in the safety of her room.

Indiana stepped out into the hallway, looking through the door behind him. The room was dark. His jacket and fedora laid on a table by the kitchenette. A shaft of light came out from underneath the bathroom door, from which the sounds of a shower emanated. Anna was cleaning up for bed. Hopefully, once she was done, she'd be in the perfect frame of mind for a little chat.

Closing the door softly behind him, Indiana walked across the hall to the opposite room, knocking and saying, "Wu Han, Shorty, it's Indy."

The door unlocked and opened, revealing Wu Han's face, "Short Round is having a bath."

"Alright," Indiana nodded, leaning against the doorframe, "I need to talk to you about something, can I come in and have a chat?"

Wu Han gave a polite nod, opening the door the rest of the way and stepping aside to allow Indiana in. He swept the door closed with a shoe once Indiana was inside, saying, "I think I know a good place where we can get you a dinner jacket and suit. You will need it to fit in at Lao's club."

"Yeah, uh..." Indiana hesitated, reaching up to rake his fingers through his hair. He walked over to one of the two double beds in the center of the hotel room, sitting down on one of them, "It's not about the exchange, Han-"

"-Anna?" Wu Han guessed, walking over to the other bed and sitting down across from Indy.

"Yeah..." Indiana frowned, "Her."

In the Jones's room, there sat a closet. It had been jammed shut from the inside. The hotel staff had warned the residents that the latch holding the closet closed had rusted shut, and that a repair person was going to come to fix it in the morning and to try not to force it open before then.

Of course, that had been a lie. It was expected that Doctor Jones would return to the same hotel he stayed at previously.

The door was unblocked quietly, the wooden board braced against it from within being removed. Kao Kan peered through a slight gap in the door, seeing the room dark, Indiana gone, and a light from the bathroom as someone showered inside. Cracking a small smile, he took out a handkerchief and a bottle of pale liquid, beginning to soak the cloth in it.

Hopefully, whatever 'Anna Jones' was would still be as vulnerable to chloroform as humans were.

Indiana clasped his hands in front of him as he hunched slightly, not meeting the gaze of his friend as he began to explain, "She's just been... rebellious since the start. First, she pulls my arm by running away from home. Then, when we get here, she's just got a constant bad attitude. Now she risks her head and nearly gets all of us killed. I lost my temper with her, and I really regret it trust me, but lives were at stake."

"You're right, you shouldn't have shouted at her," Wu Han replied firmly, giving a lopsided frown towards his friend, "But... I feel like her attitude is more than teenage emotional incontinence, Indy."

Indiana remained silent at that. He had a suspicion he already knew what was about to be pointed out to him, and simply let the accusation come.

"I think she just wanted to spend time with you, Indy. That's the only reason she came," Wu Han said calmly, "She's jealous of the attention you give to Short Round and not her-"

"I don't give Shorty nearly as much attention as I give her," Indiana retorted.

"Perhaps. Maybe she doesn't see it that way, though," Wu Han muttered, casting his eyes downwards, "What she did today was brave, Indy. She wasn't doing it out of... idiocy. Perhaps someone with more experience in her shoes would have found a better way of doing what she did, but she knew that if she didn't do something there was a good chance I was going to get hurt. She was scared, but she put herself in danger to save me nonetheless. That is a very daring thing to do."

"Bravery can get you in all kinds of trouble. She could've just gotten everyone killed," Indiana said.

Wu Han frowned, "But she didn't. Maybe that's the more important thing she needs to know right now."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean," Wu Han grimaced, "There is no point in punishing her. You saw how scared she was. If you do nothing, or worse try and discipline her even more, her brain will tell her to never be brave again. Right now, she needs you to apologize to her. She needs you to hold her and comfort her. She does not need the rod, Indy."

Anna emerged from the bathroom, towel still slung over her back and across her wings. She adjusted the sleeves of her shirt as they stuck and chafed against her slightly damp fur. Looking at her bed, illuminated in dim moonlight spilling through a nearby window, she hesitated. Whenever she got shaken up like this, her dreams were usually very bad. The image of the smuggler, hole cratered straight through his forehead, still flashed before her vision. This night was going to shape up to be the worst night she'd ever experienced.

As she stood there, though, a noise caught her ear. The slight pad of feet against carpet and the roll of a sliding door. She didn't smell her father.

She turned towards a dark corner of the room, just to see a dark figure standing there, something in its hands. It took her a moment to realize it wasn't a figment of her imagination as it began to charge across the room.

She screamed.

"I mean, what do I say?" Indiana said, fully slumped forward on the bed.

Wu Han shrugged, responding with, "Apologies. A lot of apologies. Don't bring up anything about what she did today. Don't even ask for forgiveness yet, she probably won't be able to honestly forgive you. Just tell her you are sorry. You are sorry, yes?"

Indiana looked up, "I-"

A scream came through the walls of the hotel. It was Anna's scream.

The two men looked up at each other for a split second before launching into action. Indiana was the first to his feet, running towards the door as he ran by the small kitchenette by the door. With a swift motion, he plucked one of the kitchen knives out of its block and kicked open the hotel room door.

He gave his own door a similar treatment as he bolted across the hall. As the door flung open and light spilled in from the hallway, Indiana sighted a Chinese man in a black suit. He was in the process of wrestling Anna to the floor, who had been overpowered by his superior strength but was still managing to flail about. A wet rag had been kicked out of his hand, which he was attempting to reach for as he pinned Anna to the floor.

However, as Indiana stood in the door, the intruder immediately rolled over and surged to his feet, just in time for Indiana to lunge at him and tackle him off his feet.

The two of them landed on top of one of the beds, where Indiana laid into him with repeated left hooks. The intruder reached towards the bedside table, trying to reach for something to use as an improvised weapon. Indiana responded to that attempt by bringing down the kitchen knife on his hand, slicing straight through a finger.

The intruder screamed at his impromptu amputation. Another hand grabbed him by his collar, hoisting him out from under Indiana and throwing him against the wall. A click resounded through the room as Wu Han stepped back from the stunned intruder revolver aimed at him.

Indiana leaned on the bed as Wu Han held the attempted kidnapper at gunpoint. Slowly, he retrieved the knife from the bedside table, where blood and the remnants of a finger still stained it.

"Who're you working for!?" Indiana demanded, standing up and pointing the bloodied knife at the man.

The intruder simply grasped the wound on his hand, glancing wildly between the two of them.

Wu Han shook his head, "I know who this is. This is Kao Kan. He is one of Lao Che's sons."

Indiana glanced at Wu Han, then down to Anna. She sat, wide-eyed on the floor, "Are you hurt?" he asked.

Anna shook her head.

Indiana grabbed Kao Kan by the collar, pulling him from the wall and beginning to walk him towards the door, knife pressed to the back of his head, "Get out and don't come back!" he demanded, before throwing him out into the corridor.

Kao Kan, released from Indy's grip, quickly scrambled to run down the hallway and away from the two armed men. After double checking that he had indeed fled, Indiana pulled the door shut and bolted it shut.

"Looks like Lao intends to double cross us too," Wu Han observed, safely pushing forward the hammer of his revolver and holstering it, "Will we call off the handoff?"

"No," Indiana immediately responded, dropping the knife onto one of the kitchenette counters and quickly taking a dishtowel to the bedside table, wiping up the blood before Anna could get her eyes on it, "He could've been acting alone. Anna will stay safe this time and I can deal with Lao directly."

Wu Han's face fell, "Indiana Jones, you have got to be kidding me."

"No," Indiana said, frowning, "The Peacock's Eye is too valuable to pass up. Your debts to Lao are on the line too, Wu. We can't just leave."

Wu Han opened his mouth to complain, but shut it again as he gave a glance towards Anna. Fists clenching by his side, he took a deep breath and went for the door, "I-" he paused, "Am going to check our room for any intruders also."

"Right," Indiana said, standing and waiting as the other man left.

The door opened and closed behind Wu Han. Indiana closed the bolt, slotted in the chain, and moved a chair to block the doorhandle. He went to the other side of the room, making sure the window was locked before pulling the curtains closed. Heart still thundering, he looked down towards Anna, who was now sitting up.

"We're leaving. Tomorrow we're leaving," Indiana promised, "We'll be back in the States by next week. We'll be safe."

Indiana committed himself to staying up for the rest of the night, keeping watch. Anna did eventually climb into bed, but her night was just as sleepless.

Later, he'd talk to her. Once they were out of trouble and safe in America. Not now. Later.

Author's Note

Alright. I've taken some time to replace all the burned out bulbs in my brain and I'm ready to continue! Sometimes, you don't realize just how hard you're pushing yourself until you're completely out of energy.

With this chapter, we're ready for the Temple of Doom prologue. Those ones are already fully written, just still in draft form so they should be relatively easy to do.

I really toyed around with how destructive I wanted the breakdowns in this chapter to be. In the end, I hope I didn't go too extreme.

28: Anything Goes, 1935

The automobile purred as it made its way down the streets of Shanghai. The starless sky spanned over the city as windows and streetlights glowed. The streets were crowded as commuters, workers, and pedestrians milled to and fro. Wu Han was missing from the vehicle, having already gone undercover to help watch Indiana's back while they made the final deal with the mobsters.

"We he- We're here, Doctah Jones," Short Round said, depressing the brakes as they turned a final corner. Neon lighting framed a sign written in English, with Chinese lettering to its side.

"CLUB OBI-WAN"

Indiana Jones, clothed in a fine white suit with a bowtie, a false red flower on his left breast, and lacking his usual Fedora, reached for the door handle. Looking to the back seat, where Anna sat with her head dipped and eyes averted, he tried his best to comfort her, "Hey, Anna. You doing alright?"

Anna looked up to him with a rather long face, "No. Why would I be?"

"Yeah... yeah," Indiana frowned, taking his hand off of the door for a moment and turning around to look at her, "Listen, Anna. I'm sorry about yesterday, and last night, okay? You were just trying to do the right thing."

"I just want to go home..." Anna muttered, drawing her hind legs close and looking away.

Indiana resisted the temptation to make a snide remark about her being the one wanting to come along in the first place and simply gave a weak smile, "We'll be in the States by the end of the week, okay? I'm not mad at you or anything, we're going to take some time to relax."

"Okay..." Anna shrugged, still not meeting his eyes.

"Yeah," Indiana sighed, looking thoughtful for a moment before turning his head towards Short Round, "Keep circling the club. Be ready to step on it if things go south. If I'm not out by..." he checked his watch, "Ten o' clock... head back to the hotel," looking towards Anna, he continued, "And Anna. Just in case, I want you to go and fly to one of the rooftops near here. You hear gunshots, people walking near you, anything, you fly as fast as you can to the airport and look for Art Weber. Tell him you were with Indiana Jones."

"Okay," Anna finally straightened up a bit, looking out the window up to one of the nearby rooftops.

"Remember the rules, this time, okay?" Indiana attempted a smile as he probed Anna one last time.

Anna's gave a long-suffering sigh, "Yeah..."

"I love you, okay?" Indiana said as he leaned back from the window, straightening up his suit jacket.

Anna stayed silent as she watched him walk for the club entrance. After a moment, she whispered, "Love you too, Dad..."

Short Round gave her a sympathetic frown as he turned in his seat, "Doctah Jones will be okay, Anna. He always is."

"I sure hope so," Anna mumbled as she opened the car door, stepping onto the sidewalk before taking off and flying for the rooftops. She watched as the car pulled away from the curb and motored down the street.

"Anything goes!"

The singer on stage finished with a final crescendo from the live band. The patrons of the club cheered as the performers, the lead singer included, ran off the stage, getting out of the customer's hairs as they dispersed up the stairs and into the staff areas.

Indiana Jones's eyes swept the club as he walked in. He knew better than to think Lao Che had just selected any old nightclub to meet in, this place was probably just a front for his business. He had to assume everyone wearing staff uniforms here, and perhaps certain members of the crowd, were in with the mob.

"Talk about jumping feet-first into the dragon's lair," Indiana thought to himself, giving a glance at the giant dragon head prop on the stage as he walked down the rest of the flight of stairs to the club floor, dress shoes clicking softly.

There was only one person amongst the waiting staff that he could trust. The man in question walked by, an empty platter in his hand and a napkin around his arm. Wu Han leaned in to whisper to him, "Be careful."

Indiana reached into his pocket, almost on instinct. He did not have his revolver with him, as it was too much of a risk to bring it into a negotiation where it could be found by Lao's personal bodyguards. Taking in a deep breath, he walked confidently towards a table near the center of the club. There, he recognized him.

Lao Che was a taller than average Chinese man with a full, but not muscular composure. He wore a black suit with a white bowtie and flower, just like his two underlings sitting to either side of him. Indiana suppressed a sneer as he saw the man sitting beside him. He couldn't see his hand, but he knew that hand was missing a finger after the incident last night. He suppressed the urge to quickdraw and blast the man who'd tried to steal his daughter away. He resisted, and removed his hand from his pocket as he sat down on the empty seat, clearly reserved for him.

"Wǎnshàng hǎo nǐ hǎo ma?" Indiana said as he sat down. Two men in black suits provided him a napkin a pat-down search.

Lao Che tilted his head slightly, "I did not know you spoke my language, Doctor Jones."

Indiana kept his face neutral as he adjusted his coat, the two suited men backing away, "Only on... special occasions.'

Lao Che leaned forward, "So it is true. You have found Nurhachi?"

Indiana raised an eyebrow playfully, "You know I did. One of your boys has been tailing us this entire time, and last night he tried to break into my daughter's room," his eyes fixed onto the man in question, who flinched and raised his left hand, wrapped in bandages and missing a finger.

Lao Che straightened in his seat, voice turning sour, "You have insulted my son."

"No, you've insulted me," Indiana dismissed, keeping his cool outer demeanour, "If I'd tried to steal your son, you'd have killed me. I spared your son's life."

The man to Lao Che's right stood up, slamming his palm onto the table, "Nǐ shuō shénme?!"

Before things could escalate any further, a woman wearing an expensive, scaled dress ran up behind Lao Che. Indiana recognized her as the woman who'd been leading the performance on stage just before he arrived. Placing two gloved hands on the mobster's shoulder, she looked at Indiana as she smiled, "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

The presence of the woman calmed Lao Che slightly, who put a hand out to make his minion sit. Using the same hand, he pointed to the woman, "This is Willie Scott..."

Indiana Jones rose politely, smiling as he admired her figure. She was a young woman, probably in her twenties. A medium build, with curly blonde hair. She was wearing an expensive, probably Parisian, dress that was a mix of red and gold. She had blue eyes and an almost vapid air of naivete on her face as she glanced up and down at him - Indiana would bet money that she didn't have a damn idea what was going on.

"...This is Indiana Jones, the famous archaeologist," Lao Che finished.

Willie Scott hummed as she walked around the table, taking a seat to Indiana's left, "Well I thought archaeologists were always these funny little men looking for their mommies."

Indiana sat down as she did, blinking slightly before correcting, "Er- Mummies."

Lao Che, still looking at Willie, bowed his head slightly, "Doctor Jones found Nurhachi for me. And he's going to deliver it..." he looked towards his son, "Now."

"Say, who is this Nurhachi-" Willie Scott began, still clueless.

Indiana's body tensed, heart rate rising to a familiar pitch as the sound of a revolver's click permeated past the calm piano ambiance playing from the stage. His moment of panic did not last long, as trained instincts kicked in. A cart carrying freshly roasted meat rumbled past behind him, and he reached for the handle of a long, sharp fork sitting on it, his other arm grasping Willie's right.

Dragging her seat towards him, he shoved the fork right to the space between her ribs, right where he knew a deep plunge could stab into her heart. She protested, of course, but Indiana's focus was instead on Lao Che's son, "Put the gun away, sonny," he pressed the fork harder against her dress to prove his point.

Lao Che slowly looked towards his son, before nodding subtly. The nine-fingered man pushed the hammer forward and lowered the revolver.

"I suggest you give me what you owe me," he jabbed into her side again with the fork, causing her to grimace in discomfort, "Or anything goes."

Tension filled the air, despite the pleasant conversations, laughter, and calming music filling the club. Slowly, Lao Che reached into his pocket, procuring a small cloth pouch. Placing it on the rotating tray in the center of the table, he spun it around until it faced Indiana.

Keeping his eyes on Lao Che and his men, Indiana ordered Willie, "Open it."

Breathing heavily from the stress, Willie reached forward, sparing a nervous glance behind her towards Indiana. Undoing the drawstring keeping the pouch shut, she emptied it into her hands, revealing only a few gilded coins.

Clicking his tongue, Indiana fixed Lao Che with a glare, "The diamond, Lao. The deal was for the diamond."

Nervously, Willie dumped the coins and the pouch back onto the tray, spinning it around back towards Lao Che. The mobster, poker face remaining strong, set his jaw as he took an object, wrapped in white cloth from his pocket, and placed it on the table.

Spinning it around, Willie Scott once again picked it up and unwrapped it. Inside, a glittering white jewel was found. Admiring it in her hand, Willie looked towards Lao Che, "Oh... Lao- OW!"

With a slight stab, Indiana took the diamond from her. Resting the fork on the table, he kept the diamond in his hand. For the first time, he noticed a cocktail sitting on the table in front of him. After being remote and then on the plane for so long, he felt like a good drink. Cherishing the feeling of the Peacock's Eye in his palm, he reached for the cup and raised it to his lips, raising it first to Lao Che, "To your very good health."

Before he could drink, Willie Scott suddenly got up, her elbow knocking his and spilling some of the drink onto the table. Her voice tight and provoked, she complained, "Lao! He put a hole- he put two holes in my dress from Paris!" she finished by getting up in Indiana's face.

"Sit down!" Lao Che demanded. Willie Scott complied, sitting back down on her chair and quickly kicking away from Indiana, her eyes darting between him and the fork he had pressed into her dress. Lao Che steepled his hands in front of him, fixing Indiana with his glare, "Now. You will bring me Nurhachi."

"Who on Earth is this Nurhachi anyhow?" Willie asked.

Indiana simply raised a hand as if he was signalling a waiter. From behind him, Wu Han walked up, his platter now carrying the artefact in question. Taking it from the tray, Wu Han disappeared back into the crowd as Indiana turned towards Lao Che, "Here he is."

The jade urn spun on the lazy susan towards Lao Che and his mobsters. Willie Scott leaned forward, looking at it as it passed by, "This Nurhachi's a real small guy..."

Indiana smiled as the Lao Che took it almost reverently. His sons leaned in as their faces lit up. Voice quavering, Lao Che spoke, "Inside... are the remains of Nurhachi. First Emperor... of Manchu Dynasty..."

Indiana raised his glass once more, "Welcome home, old boy," then, with the exchange finally complete, he took a nice, long swig of the cup.

As he lowered the glass, still half empty, he furrowed his brow as the mobsters on the other side of the table began to chuckle, then laugh. With a frown, he asked, "What's so funny?"

Lao Che, a sinister grin spread wide across his face, answered, "Where is she, Doctor Jones? Where is your daughter now?"

Indiana ran a finger through his collar. Was it just the nerves, or did his stomach feel upset? "Are you trying to develop a sense of humor, or am I going deaf?"

Lao Che shook his head, reaching into his pocket and procuring a vial of blue liquid, "Doctor Jones, we make a new deal. Your 'daughter' would make a... most excellent addition to my collection. So, you tell us where you told her to hide, and you get this antidote."

"Antidote?" a bead of sweat began to run down Indiana's forehead as his heart raced again.

"To the poison-" Lao Che snickered as his two sons laughed, "To the poison you just drank, Doctor Jones. The poison works fast."

Thinking fast, Indiana took the fork from the table and pulled Willie over to his side once again, pressing the fork against her side. At the same time, both Indiana and Willie shouted, "Lao!"

Lao Che, suppressing his laughter to talk, leaned forward on the table, "You keep the girl, Doctor Jones. I will find another!"

A betrayed look flashed over Willie's face as she watched Lao laugh. Suddenly, the click of a revolver's hammer came over the music once again. This time, though, it was far more comforting, even as his stomach burned with malicious fluid. It was on his side of the table. Standing next to Indiana, Wu Han wielded a revolver beneath his serving tray (currently topped with the remains of the poisoned drink), the barrel pointed directly at Lao Che. Their laughter died instantly.

"That's not a waiter!" Willie pointed out, subtly attempting to squirm away from the offending edge of the fork.

"Wu Han's an old friend of mine. Hell freezes over before I give over my daughter to you, Lao," Indiana growled, dropping the fork and extending his hand, "Antidote!"

Suddenly, the sounds of celebrations filled the room. Champagne bottles popped, going off like gunshots all around... until the sound of an actual gunshot caught Indiana's attention in particular. First, he looked over to Wu Han's weapon, not seeing any smoke. Then, he looked over to Lao Che. The smoking gun was instead with them, as Lao Che's nine fingered son slowly lowered his own piece.

In an instant, Wu Han collapsed into Indiana's arms. Blood pooled across his chest from where the bullet had hit him. The revolver fell onto the table, where Lao's son grabbed it away before any of the club-goers could see it or Indiana could grab it. Supporting Wu Han's weight, Indiana felt weakness coursing through his bones as a subtle ringing began in his ears.

The man, one of his longer lasting friends he'd met on his adventures, choked slightly as he spasmed in his grip. Leaning over towards him, he whispered, "Indiana, your daughter..."

"We're gonna-" Indiana took his napkin, pressing it against the wound in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding, "We're gonna get you out of here, Wu Han, just hang in there..."

"Not this time. Take her home..." he choked out, "Show her... you really love her. I go... I go find out the greatest mystery of mankind... first.."

Chills ran down Indiana's spine, counteracting the shivers and quakes he felt as his stomach and organs burned. Wu Han had breathed his last, and lifelessly fell out of Indiana's grip to the floor, blood trailing from his mouth and spilling through the stained napkin on his chest.

"Do not worry, Doctor Jones. You will soon be joining him," Lao Che grinned from the other side of the table, "I will renegotiate my previous offer. Tell us where she is, and she will get a private stable, away from the other horses," he sneered, "Don't worry. We will find her no matter what. She stands out, Doctor Jones. What will she ever do without you around to protect her?"

The constant feeling of losing his balance overtook him as his insides burned, sweat dripping down his forehead as if he had just run a marathon. Indiana Jones stumbled slightly as the mobsters laughed at their victory over him. In the corner of his eyes, a flaming skewer of meat rattled on a meal cart behind him, and he took his chance, grabbing the handle and throwing it at the first mobster his spinning vision locked onto.

The sharp end of the skewer landed true, and the flaming pidgeon on it ignited the man's shirt as he screamed out in pain. In his right hand, a revolver went off as he squeezed off the trigger from the shock, the gunshot ringing loud and true throughout the club without any champagne bottles popping to disguise its sound. Someone screamed, and soon enough the sounds of panic filled the club as tables were abandoned and the common spaces filled with fleeing civilians.

Willie Scott, noticing the diamond that Indiana had, at some point, dropped, picked it up to admire it in one of her gloved hands. At the same time, Indiana Jones launched himself over the table, hand outstretched for the antidote, only to fumble and knock it off the table onto the floor, where the vial fortunately survived.

Meanwhile, on a nearby rooftop, Anna sighed as she waited. She knew from passing conversation that her father was meant to meet with Lao Che on the top floor of the club, but unfortunately for her the windows on the top floor were made of stained glass, and were too foggy for her to observe anything through. So, she was simply left with her thoughts as she sat on top of a rooftop ventilation system, fans spinning and humming below her.

"Was this the big old adventure I thought I was going on?" Anna said to herself, looking up towards the night sky, "...Naw, not really. And now I'll probably never see Short Round again. No way I'm doing this twice... no way Dad's even letting me do this twice."

So that meant back to the regular status quo, she guessed. Back to America, back to Bedford. Back to Indiana never being around. Back to studying foreign places from textbooks and marking places on maps. All things considered, her experience on their expedition wasn't all that bad. She'd gotten to see quite a lot of China. Even if the beds were rough, the streets stinky, and the customs weird... she'd actually found herself enjoying it. Even if there hadn't been any ancient temples or hidden realms, at least she got to poke around a shipwreck.

The sounds of popping perked her ears as she looked back towards the top story windows of the club. Her more sensitive ears could recognize the sounds of champagne bottles... but she most definitely heard a gunshot mixed in with the sounds. She picked herself up to her hooves, quickly glancing around her, particularly towards the access door on the other side of the roof. Still, nobody was trying to intrude.

"You hear gunshots, people walking near you, anything, you fly as fast as you can to the airport and look for Art Weber," Indiana had said, and she looked out East towards the place where she knew the airport was.

She looked back at the club window. Her ears perked as another gunshot rang from the club, unaccompanied by any other sounds. Soon afterwards, screams echoed through the walls as shapes moved back and forth in the glass.

Anna rocked back and forth on her hooves as she looked over towards the airport again. The previous day flashed across her mind. This was precisely the thing she had been warned against doing. She had nearly gotten everyone killed last time, or at least so had Indy said in his anger.

She looked down. Her whip dangled from her cross-belt, and her revolver had been returned to her after her father had used it at the smuggler's hideout. But, there was one more object that caught her eye. A small, gold-plated pocket watch, ticking softly despite the sounds coming from inside the club.

She remembered her reflection in it. Something stirred within her. The same power rushed across her hide, even if there weren't any glowing lights to accompany it this time.

Anna was very, very scared, but she knew exactly what she needed to do.

Without giving herself a chance to think it over better in case she changed her mind, she reached for a nearby brick. Then, taking flight she crossed the gap between the buildings, setting her jaw and squinting her eyes to protect from glass shards as she threw the brick through the window, shattering it on impact.

Flying through the opening, Anna drew her revolver, aiming at the ceiling as she surveyed the scene. A woman screamed at the sight of her as people rushed to and fro, heading for the exits. If it weren't for her power of flight keeping her safely aloft above their heads, she would've surely been trampled beneath their feet.

Several men in black suits and white ties were spilling from the staff areas, some of them armed. The sight of Indiana's white suit caught her eye, and her heart rate increased as she saw him stumble around, a drunken and flushed look on his face as he fought off a few of the black-suited men. However, through the chaos, her eyes landed on the table in the center of the room.

There was a man on fire attempting to put himself out as he beat at the flames, a flaming skewer of some sort of meat stuck into his stomach. Lying dead on the floor on the other side of the table, though, was a more familiar body. Wu Han, dressed as a waiter, with an empty, lifeless look in his eyes, stared straight for Anna as she hovered there in midair.

Indiana's voice cut through the crowd, directed to her, "ANNA!" he shouted, attracting her attention to him as he pointed in her general direction, "The men in black suits! Keep away from them! Get out of here!"

One of the men in the crowd of black suits pointed towards her, "GET HER! GRAB HER! HURT HER AND I KILL YOU!"

Anna's eyes shot wide open as several of the men began to ran towards her, weaving between the fleeing civilians and the tables. Wielding her revolver, she aimed in their general direction before squeezing the trigger in panic, reflexively shutting her eyes as the revolver boomed. She did it once more, before opening her eyes to realize in a rush of fear that she had sent two of her shots directly over the charging mobster's heads.

Instead choosing to evade, she angled herself, flapping her wings as one of the men reached for her, escaping their range as they stumbled over each other. Holstering her revolver, she went for her whip instead as another man leapt from a table for her and failed.

Most of the civilians had fled the room and the nightclub floor was clear of obstructions. Through her peripheral vision, Anna saw a bunch of the mobsters throwing axes at Indiana, which he dodged as they struck a statue behind him. Unfurling her own whip, Anna mustered her strength as she did a standard crack at the men approaching her. The whipping cord and the sound of the supersonic crack caused them to flinch backwards, but not for long as a few reached up to shield their eyes and charge ever closer.

A strange energy built in her hoof near the handle of the whip, and gave into it with spur of the moment abandon. The whip cracked once again, but this time sent a rippling tide of wind in the direction of the men. In one strike, three of them fell to the ground, their suits ripped as a hot, red gash formed along their arms and chests.

A bowl spilled and tiny ice cubes went everywhere, sliding past underneath Anna as she blinked at her handiwork. A woman screamed in frustration somewhere.

"What- What the hell are you still doing here, Anna?" Indiana screamed from behind her.

Anna gritted her teeth and sent her energy into her whip again as a new crowd of mobsters approached, her wind once again smashing over them as they stumbled, "I'm saving you!" she shouted.

"Saving..." he stuttered, before looking over towards a woman in a red dress nearby, holding a vial of blue liquid, "Hey! You! Stay right there!"

"Huh?" Anna paused for a moment, looking at the woman, "What's that?"

"Antidote..." Indiana stumbled over the ice cubes as he chased her and Anna broke her hover to fly after him, dodging more of the men as they slowly surrounded the room.

The sound of a charging handle being pulled back filled the room, and Anna looked over her shoulder as one of the suited men wielded an SMG aimed in her father's direction. Thinking quickly, she dived in front of Indiana as he grabbed the woman's arm, spreading out her legs to cover the most surface area in front of him as possible.

Rage filled the SMG-wielder's face as he held his fire, aiming the barrel around as Indiana stumbled, trying to get an opening. Finally, grabbing her father's arm, Anna shouted, "The exit! Come on! They're gonna seal it off!"

Indiana didn't argue as he kept his grip on both the woman with the vial and Anna, letting her lead them towards the exit.

"I DON'T WANNA DIEEEEEEEE!" the woman screamed as she half-ran, half stumbled across the club floor, cringing away from the sight of the gunner.

One of the mobsters moved to block the entrance, but Anna brought her whip around again, striking at the man directly. Without his hands raised to protect his face, the whip's cord slashed directly across his ear and cheek, the same wind tide rippling down its length and tossing balloons into the air.

The party pushed by as the mobster languished in pain on the floor. A door with a painted "EXIT" sign bore dead ahead, and Anna pushed through it as a spray of bullets hit the neighboring stairwell from the frustrated SMG mobster. On the other side of the door, the Joneses and their plus one paused only for a moment as they looked down the hallways that stretched both left and right around the building. The clear place to proceed was an unglamorous utility elevator on the other side of the hall.

"Hold the elevator!" Indiana shouted as he barreled towards it, hardly remaining upright as his eyes unfocused and his arms flailed to try and keep steady.

A teenaged Chinese boy in a boiler suit, operating the elevator, bugged his eyes as he quickly reached for the handle for the door. The folding bars began to slide closed, but Anna reached the doorway first with her superior speed as the exit door burst open with pursuing mobsters behind them. Jamming her hoof in the way of the bars, she bit her tongue at the crushing pain as she forced it back open, swinging through the gap and planting her back hooves into the operator's stomach, knocking him into the back wall where he crumpled unceremoniously. Indiana and the red-dressed woman clambered in behind him.

"Hit the button!" Indiana screamed as he hit the deck, a spray of gunfire barely missing him as Anna flew back from the back of the elevator, pulling a lever on the control console into a down facing position.

A bell rang in the elevator as it began to descend. Through the gap between the floor and the doorway of the elevator, Anna saw several of the mobsters begin to descend a stairwell nearby, the SMG-wielding maniac watching them with fury as he threw his gun to the floor.

"Sir! Sir we just met! I'm not that kinda girl!" the woman in red screamed, attracting Anna's attention as she watched her father pin the woman to the wall. Indiana reached his left fingers into the dress's breast pocket, and both of the females in the elevator cringed.

Before Anna could open her mouth to protest, Indiana's hand resurfaced with the blue vial of liquid, which he began to unscrew with shaky hands. A loud "THUD" sounded from the elevator ceiling, causing Anna and the woman to look upwards. Suddenly, a small square hatch on the ceiling was kicked open as the SMG-wielding man fell onto the floor nearby. Getting up from his fall, the mobster looked at Anna, and she recognized him instantly.

"You!" He growled.

"Oh god," Anna's eyes bugged open as the man lunged for her.

Just before he could reach her, Indiana's arm wrapped around his neck, pulling back away and towards the other wall of the elevator. Indiana looked at his daughter with refocusing eyes as the empty vial plinked off the floor at their feet, "Kick him! Kick him!"

The mobster drew a knife and began to raise it to stab his attacker. However, Anna reacted in the nick of time, throwing her weight into a punch straight into the highest thing in reach of the small pony - his crotch. The mobster's scream reached a soprano, and the knife dropped to the floor. Indiana, taking advantage of the mobster's stunned status, swung his body around, smashing the mobster's head into the metal supports on the walls until blood trailed from his skull and he dropped to the floor, out cold.

"Who are you people!?" the woman demanded as she pressed herself into a corner of the elevator.

Indiana turned, as if to answer, but his eyes widened as the elevator reached the next floor. Three mobsters logjammed themselves against the door, wrenching the bars opened as the elevator continued to descend. One of them made it through the gap, leaping onto the elevator switch and putting it back into reverse, the elevator responding in kind as it ascended.

Anna spread her wings and went to throw a punch, but the mobster met it with a block throwing her up towards the ceiling. Pieces of the elevator cabin's roof fell as she hit the floor, her body roaring with pain. Sparks fell as the lamp that had been illuminating the lift fell to the ground next to her with a crash.

Indiana Jones followed up on the mobster's attack with a swift kick to his side, the mobster still being in a vulnerable position after throwing Anna. Then, reaching into a nearby box of frozen seafood, he launched an ice cold fish chunk at the next man attempting to squeeze through the half-opened elevator door, the seafood making a resounding "CLOUNK" as it bounced off of the man's skull.

The last of the three interloping mobsters drew a pistol, aiming it for Indiana Jones, his body not blocked by Anna anymore. Thinking fast, Anna refocused her vision and grabbed for the lightbulb rolling around on the floor next to her. Throwing it as if she was pitching back in a neighborhood game of baseball, she threw it between the bars at the pistol wielder. The incandescent glass smashed onto his face, the tiny shards embedding into his skin as blood began to pour, causing his shot to go wide.

Indiana leaned all of his weight onto the door, slamming it back shut before the stunned mobster could recover. Anna leapt for the elevator switch, jamming it into the downwards position once more as the elevator stopped its ascent and travelled downwards again.

For a moment, the elevator ride grew quiet, and Indiana finally turned back around and answered the woman's question, "...I'm Indiana Jones. This is my daughter, Anna Jones."

The woman panted heavily as she looked between the miniature horse occupying the elevator and the man who had been threatening to take her life a moment ago, "...What kind of archaeologist are you? And what kind of dog is that!?"

Anna, clutching at her bruised midsection and breathing heavily, simple replied with, "Woof."

Indiana didn't answer, noticing the ground floor of the club approaching, where a kitchen connected directly to the utility elevator. Wrenching the elevator doors open, he took the woman's hand and ran through before the floor passed and squeezed them off. Anna ran after them, blinking a few of the stars out of her eyes as she slipped through the gap.

The staff working the kitchen panicked as they blundered through, shouting in Chinese at them. A few mobsters blasted through the door separating the eating area from the kitchen, chasing them. Indiana grabbed a pot, throwing it with all his might over Anna's head, smashing the lead mobster in the face. He topped backwards, logjamming the rest behind him in the narrow aisle of the kitchen.

One final door was thrown open, leaving them outside in the cool night air. As soon as Anna was through, Indiana put his back into rolling a large, heavy dumpster that was sitting next to the exit in front of the door. No sooner was the dumpster in front of the door did the door begin to thump with people trying to kick it down.

"Holy shit..." Anna breathed as she watched the door vibrate with the angry people on the other side.

Indiana jumped back to the street corner, waving an arm as a familiar white automobile completed a circuit and came to a stop nearby, "In the car! In the car now, all of you!"

Anna ran in front of the woman, ripping open the back door and jumping inside, the red dressed woman following her quickly. Indiana Jones dived in soon after, closing the door as mobsters began to appear at the main entrance of the club. From the front seat, Short Round peeked his head to look back at his passengers, "Holy smokes. Hot escape!"

"Shorty!" Indiana pulled out his revolver, "Step on it!"

"Okie Dokie Doctah Jones, hold onto your potatoes!" Short Round pulled his cap down, before turning around and putting his hands on the wheel.

"Oh for crying out loud now there's a kid driving the car!" the woman shouted, her hands in her hair as she tried in vain to fix the mess it had become.

The accelerator was slammed just as gunshots were fired from the entrance to the club, pinging off of the road and the frame of the car as it zoomed away. Anna spared one look back through the rear window, seeing a black roadster pulling up to pick up some of the mobsters. Reaching for her gun holster again, she shouted, "We got company!"

"Shit," Indiana swore as he took his revolver from below the rear seat, smashing out the back window with the handle as Short Round drifted around a corner.

The car ploughed through a row of lanterns. Sparks flew as electrical wires were torn from the impact, and soon a trail of flaming lanterns followed them as their lines caught in the car's chassis. At the far end of the road, the black roadster made the turn, roaring towards them. Two mobsters hanging onto the sides began to shoot, not aiming for the car's occupants, but for the tires of the car instead.

Indiana aimed his gun, firing it several times before clicking onto an empty chamber. Turning around, he shouted, "Why we slowing down, Shorty!?"

Anna pressed herself into her seat, heart thundering with fear and adrenaline as she tried in vain to slow her breathing. In front of the car, a rickshaw was slowing down the chase, Short Round thundering on the horn to try and get the puller to get out of the way. As the chase continued, her mind tried to claw for the logic behind the entire situation she had just went through. Images of Wu Han's dead body staring at her flashed through her mind, the carnage spilling from the lightbulb cuts, the blood streaming from her two-time attacker's head...

Indiana took his revolver, the chamber opened, and shoved it into the woman's hands, "Here, hold this!" he shouted as he reached back down into his bag for a fresh reload

The woman screamed as she juggled the revolver between two hands, eventually launching the it out of Anna's side window to the street outside. Indiana, now with a handful of new bullets, looked at the woman, "Where's my gun!?"

"I burned my fingers and I cracked a nail!" the woman screeched as she nursed her fingers.

"Anna!" Indiana demanded, "You still have your gun?"

Anna could only wordlessly nod.

"Then use it!" Indiana demanded as he ducked away from the window as more shots rang out, "Short Round! This isn't a sunday drive! Step on it already!"

Anna swallowed her fear, reaching into her holster as she peeked back up over the seat headrest. The car was growing ever closer, and she could see the faces of the driver and passengers, their faces grim and determined past the glare of their headlights. Flattening her ears against her skull, she aimed down her sights, her hooves quaking so mightily that the fore and rear sights passed over each other only for split seconds.

She squeezed off a shot, but it went completely wide, sparking off the frame of the car. Before she could even re-aim, Indiana snatched the gun from her, "I'll do it!"

Much more confidently, her father fired the remaining three rounds in the chamber towards the enemy as Anna shrunk back down into her seat. Indiana swung out the chamber and knocking the empty cartridges loose with the ejector rod. Behind them, Short Round finished blasting the horn, shouting, "Okay! You ask for it!"

The car accelerated again, the front bumper slamming into the rickshaw as it was accelerated with the automobile. The rickshaw driver windmilled his legs in the air as the car roared forward down the street.

"Bullets! Bullets Anna!" Indiana shouted as he held out a hand towards her.

Anna, heart still thundering, reached for her bag, to the pocket where a box of bullets sat. Removing it, several of the cartridges inside rattled to the floor of the car as Indiana snatched it from her, inserting six of the bullets. The rattle of submachinegun fire from behind them caused Anna to press herself even harder into the seat of her chair, reaching up to cover her ears as something pinged off of the chassis of the car beneath them.

Aiming his daughter's revolver out the back window, Indiana squeezed off three more shots. She couldn't see what the results of his shots were, but the sounds of brakes screeching and a car crashing behind them, followed by the sudden cessation of gunfire told her all she needed to know. Short Round slammed on the brakes, forcing them all forward in their seats and launching the rickshaw off of their hood, before he slammed the accelerator once again and made a turn down a side road.

Indiana sighed, lowering himself from the back window and holding Anna's revolver out to her, "We lost them."

Anna nervously took the revolver back, putting it in her holster and buttoning the top as she placed her shivering hooves over her eyes. The feeling of her father's hand against her shoulder brought her hooves down from her eyes for a moment to look at him. His face was still wild-eyed and grim, but his words were a bit more comforting.

"That was real stupid," Indiana initially said, before blinking, looking her up and down for a moment, and muttering, "...But thanks. This time you might've really saved us."

Anna nodded, reaching up and wiping sweat from her brow as she leaned back into her seat, "What happened in there, anyway?"

Indiana shook his head, "Deal went sour. We-" a realization dawned on his face, "...Damnit. Lady, did you get the diamond back?"

The woman ran fingers through her hair, letting out a terrified, ragged breath, "No! I was too busy being dragged into an elevator by a maniac and his talking rat-pony!"

"My name's Anna," Anna said between breaths, finally building the courage to sit up in her seat, "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"Willie Scott," she said, "Are you some sort of Chinese horse-spirit or something?"

"Not as far as I know," Anna shrugged, "As far as I know, I'm just his daughter," she indicated towards Indiana.

"Damnit," Indiana ran a hand through his hair, "We lost the diamond. This entire thing was a bust."

"Who'd you go to bed with to get her?" Willie asked, a twisted look of disgust on her face as she looked between Indiana and Anna.

"Don't talk about her like that, doll," Indiana growled, only to be interrupted by Short Round's voice as the car finally slowed.

"We here!" Short Round said as he released the accelerator, the engine sputtering as if it was just as exhausted as its occupants.

"Grab the luggage, Anna, Shorty," Indiana said, reaching for the door handle, "Willie here can take Wu Han's slot on that flight you arranged for us," he paused as the car slowed to park, "...Unless you'd rather stay here. Lao Che made it pretty clear he doesn't care if you're alive or dead. I'm guessing he's wanting the latter now that you've been mixed up in his underground business."

Willie Scott tossed her head indignantly, "America?"

Short Round shook his head as he hopped out of the driver's seat, "India! But then to America!"

Anna breathed a sigh of relief as she tumbled out of her side of the car, "Thank God," she checked the straps on her backpack as her and Short Round rushed to the boot of the car.

The airport was familiar to Anna. It was only a week or so now that they had arrived here on Jock's plane. The passenger checkpoint was much less busy, but still guarded by a token force of a few police officers. A trimotor plane sat on the runway, its engines humming as it workers loaded several cages aboard through a cargo hatch. Anna grabbed two of the heavy suitcases in the trunk, using her quadrupedal stance to support them on her back as Short Round carried the two lighter pieces of luggage.

"Ah, Doctor Jones!" an English-accented voice called as a man ran over to Indiana, "My name's Art Weber. Your assistant called me to arrange the first flight out of Shanghai?"

"Yeah," Indiana gestured for the group to move faster as he looked down the street from the airport, a car with a single headlight blazing down the street towards them.

"There might be a slight problem with your arrangements, as you may be sharing the cargo compartment with a few specimens of live poultry..." Art Weber continued, rushing to keep up with the group as they rushed through the checkpoint, just as the car screeched to a halt on the curb.

"Are you kidding me!?" Willie Scott complained as they were escorted over to the plane.

"It was the best I could do on such short notice!" Art Weber defended, before peering at Willie Scott's dress and face, "...Say, aren't you Willie Scott? The famous American female vocalist?"

Anna used her wings to jump up to into the open hatch of the airplane, turning around and looking out at the car as Short Round and Willie piled into the plane. Two of the black suited men exited the car, walking up to and stopping at the guarded checkpoint. Even at this distance, chills ran down her spine as she saw the anger in their eyes. She even recognized one of the men as the one giving the orders to capture her when she first broke into the club.

Indiana Jones stepped up into the frame of the hatch, smiling cockily towards the men. With a wave, he shouted, "Nice try, Lao Che!"

The hatch closed.

Lao Che chuckled darkly as he stood behind the barrier of the customs checkpoint, "Goodbye, Doctor Jones..."

The wheel chocks were removed and the plane began to taxi. Engines roaring, the trimotor took to the skies just as the sun began to rise in the distance.

Author's Note

The end of the beginning.

Lao and his sons speak Shanghainese, the dialect appropriate to their area. Due to a lack of translation resources, their dialogue has been reverted to simplified chinese, along with all other Chinese dialogue in this story.

answer in the comments: on a scale of 1-10 how much do you like Willie Scott? (1 being she's the scum of the earth, with 10 being the best woman character in the series). I'm honestly very curious.

29: Slalom Down Mt Humol, 1935

Anna stepped through the hatch for the rear compartment, buttoning up the front buttons on a fresh shirt. In a new change of clothes, safely in the air away from Shanghai, with the sun risen and shining through the windows of the plane, a measure of sanity had returned to her as she processed the night. The flashes of blood and gore, the dead bodies, the flaming man.. she reassured herself that it was all to protect herself and her father. She told herself that she'd known before going on this expedition that there might be violence, considering how many times her father had told her about people he'd shot, beaten up, thrown into chasms, and run off the road... but still, witnessing it herself was on a whole other level.

Poor Wu Han. Next to Short Round, he'd shown her the most kindness throughout the trip.

Indiana Jones pressed past her, still in his dress suit, although the coat jacket had been removed in favor of his undershirt. Balled up under his arm was a bundle of recognizable clothes, his beige shirt and trousers along with his leather jacket and fedora. He gave her a smile as he passed overhead, "Try and get some rest, honey."

"Mhm..." Anna sighed as she walked back towards the front of the compartment. There were no seats aside from the ones in the cockpits, only a few wooden pallets and crates they'd manipulated to sit down on top of. It was going to be a rather uncomfortable two-day flight to Delhi, that was for certain.

Willie Scott, wearing Indiana's coat jacket over her less than warm fancy dress, watched her as she sat down across from her, "Hey there..." she said, reaching up and wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with a long fingernail, "Sorry I shouted at you."

Anna grimaced as she sat down, head still chocked full with thought as she responded, "A lot of people have been saying sorry to me recently. How do I know you mean it?"

Willie bit her bottom lip, rubbing her left elbow with her right hand. She twitched as a nearby hen in a cage reached through the bars to peck at her shoulder, causing her to move her hand to brush it off, "Ow- er, I mean, I was real panicked. They were trying to kill me and your father, and I thought Lao must've slipped me something when I saw you flying around near me. If you're a hallucination, then you're a real long lasting one. Otherwise, you're just a strange looking girl, but a girl nonetheless. Us girls got to stick together, hm?"

Anna gave a weak smile and shrugged, "Fair enough. Just don't call me rat, dog, horsey, or anything, and we'll get along fine, okay?"

Willie gave returned the expression before reaching out her gloved hand towards her, "Deal."

Anna shook it, before leaning back onto the wooden pallet. The crates and cages behind her dug into her spine and nipped at her wings, and she leaned forward again and reached to take off her backpack to position it as some sort of cushion. As she did so, she talked, "So, why were you at that club filled with mobsters?"

"I'm a singer," Willie drew her knees up to her chest, leaning forward onto them, "Wanted to try for Hollywood, but no luck. Went to China instead, did some performances on the radio and in theatres where I finally got some success. A man named Lao Che hired me for his nightclub, payed real good. Didn't know he was wrapped up in nasty business until last night."

"You from the States?" Anna asked next.

"Yep, Missouri. Grew up farming chickens, funnily enough," Willie Scott cringed away as another hen made a fuss near her head, flapping its wings and kicking up feathers. After coughing and waving the feathers away, she continued, "Ahem... and where are you and your father from?"

"Connecticut, but originally from Illinois. When I was real young, Dad took me to France and England to study with him. When we moved back to America when I was around seven we started living in Connecticut," she explained, "He teaches at a university nowadays... when he's not, y'know, doing stuff like this."

"You mean he does this kinda stuff all the time?" Willie jerked a thumb in the direction of the rear compartment, lips curled in shocked disbelief.

Anna gave a slight shrug, "All the time. Just... usually not here with him!"

"Gee," Willie gave an uncertain look back towards the tail, "Just once seems to have caused more than enough drama to last me a lifetime!"

The clamor of the plane's floor plating caused Anna's ears to swivel as the small figure of Short Round stepped from the rear compartment, the door behind him closing just in time to see the silhouette of Indiana Jones shrugging on his jacket. Short Round, coming over to sit beside Anna, breathed a sigh of relief, "Holy smokes, that was big cool!"

"Very cool," Anna corrected.

"Yes, very cool," Short Round nodded soberly, adjusting his cap as he leaned back on the cages, "So, where Wu Han go?"

Anna's ears flattened as soon as the question was raised. Even Willie winced slightly, but Anna was the one to eventually muster the courage to say it, "He uh. He died, Short. I saw him myself."

"Oh..." Short Round shifted his sitting position uncomfortably, "That's sad."

Anna pursed her lips as she looked at Short Round as he made himself comfortable in his sitting position. At least, from the outside, the boy seemed to have taken the death better than she herself did... and she had known the man for even less time. Having lost his parents... maybe he was just hardened towards that sort of thing, while she was sheltered from the whole... death thing.

Trying to distract herself, Anna got the boy's attention with a tap on the shoulder, "Hey, Short. You know what course we're heading on?" she asked as she reached into her bag, taking out her annotated map.

"Airport say we going to Delhi, refuel at Chungking," Short Round shrugged, "No talk to the pilots yet. I go take a nap now, okay?"

"'Airport says', 'You didn't talk to the pilots yet', and 'I will go and take a nap now'," Anna corrected as she extracted her red pencil. Slowly, she began to draw a red line from Shanghai going in a west-by-southwesterly course...

Anna was aboard the ship again. The storm pounded outside. The floor had a heavily tilt to one side. Her small form was obscured by the dresser, yet it was torn out of the way by an invisible force, leaving her naked and exposed.

The cabin door was thundering as a thousand fists beat on the other side. A voice screamed out from the other side, "YOU LISTEN HERE, CHILD! DO WHAT I SAY! OPEN THE DOOR!"

The Man from the Ship lay on his side, guts splayed by the path of a bullet. His intestines squirmed and writhed, dark and scaly, like a thousand minnows eating their way out of a sack. Yet, unlike all the previous times, the Man was not alone. The smuggler from Ningpo lay right beside him, whispering something completely incomprehensible as his lips fluttered open and shut as if they were driven by motors. Through the hole in his head, she could see his brain, tendrils poking out from the rendered flesh to try and rejoin.

Then, the light from the lamp overhead shifted as the ship tilted again. Wu Han lay, slumped against a bunk, chest totally soaked in his own blood. His face streamed with black liquid from a hundred cuts from an incandescent bulb, and with a slow motion he looked up towards her. His bones clicked and flesh twisted like leather as he opened his mouth and let out a loud, warbling scream.

As if the ship was coming apart, booms and bangs sounded throughout the area. It was like gunshots, ever crescendoing and piercing the ears, even as Anna screamed and raised her hooves to block them.

With a gasp, Anna jolted awake. She was back in the airplane. The bodies were still there, staring at her as she laid paralyzed. Eventually, they slowly faded away, leaving her with her friends and family in the empty, chilly cargo hold.

Beneath her cheek, the slow rise and fall of her father's diaphragm cautioned her to not make any sudden movements as she looked up to his head as he snored softly, his fedora pulled down over his eyes. Short Round slept just a few feet away, curled up against a tarpaulin-covered crate. Just across from Anna, Willie Scott leaned backwards against the rolled up remains of her Parisian dress, now dressed in Indiana's slightly beaten up dress suit.

Her eyes stung as she reached up and rubbed tears from her vision. Her head subtly ached for the feeling of sleep once again, but something in her feathers requested she didn't do so yet.

What was it? A storm? No, blue skies from what she could see from where she lay below the windows, and she couldn't tell the weather that easily while inside the closed fuselage of the airplane. Actually... wait, yes, the pressure was a lot lower than usual, but not in the way of a low pressure zone for a storm. They were higher... ascending.

Curious, Anna gently lifted herself from her father's lap. Hopping up onto a nearby crate, wincing as she made a bit of noise that caused Willie to stirr, she peered through a window out at the landscape below. Tall mountains rose out from below them, and she peered as she saw the unmistakable landmark just at the very edge of her vision: Mount Everest.

Her brow instantly furrowed as she turned around, looking at the map she had left discarded on the floor. The Himalayas lay nowhere on their course. Why had the pilots taken them off course... she peered towards the curtain towards the cockpit. A small gap in the curtain revealed the eyes of the Chinese men piloting the plane, and they quickly looked away as she met their gazes.

Her eyes remaining on the cockpit, she carefully stepped off the box towards her father... only for her to slip and fall painfully onto her muzzle with a clatter of deck plating. Scrambling back to all fours, her ears perked as she heard hushed Chinese conversation from the cockpit. She rubbed her nose as pain stung through her nostrils, and looked to her father, who was still out cold despite the noise she'd just made. She couldn't say the same for Willie Scott, though, whose hand brushed her tail as she reached up to rub her eyes.

"Are we there yet?" Willie mumbled sitting up slightly only to hiss in pain and rub the back of her neck, "Ow... my back..."

"Shh," Anna insisted as she poked her father in the side, "Dad! Dad!" she hissed at him.

Indiana stirred and accidentally kicked a foot against Short Round, waking him too. Mumbling, he reached up to raise the hat on his head slightly, "Are we here already? Good..."

"No!" Anna stretched her foreleg to cover her father's mouth, "We're over the himalayas!"

"Hm?" Indiana quirked an eyebrow as he pushed her hoof away from his mouth, "What's wrong with that?"

"That's not on our course Dad, they've turned north!" Anna whispered to him, giving an indicative glance towards the cockpit.

Short Round stood up from his resting position, his arm snagging on part of the tarpaulin as he rubbed his eyes, "What going on?"

Indiana's eyes went to Short Round as he pulled off a bit of the tarpaulin from the crate, and as he saw the stenciled words on the front he breathed, "...Oh shit."

=LAO CHE ENTERPRISES=

Willie Scott screamed suddenly. All eyes in the cabin went from the wording on the crate to her, then to where she was looking in terror. One of the pilots, a rotund man in insulated pilot gear, stood by with a pistol pointed straight at Willie Scott, Nǐ! Jones! Nǐ tīng dé dǒng pǔtōnghuà!" he shouted, eyes glancing between Willie and Indiana.

Anna's body tensed, and he could feel her father's body tense right alongside her as they both stared up at the gun-wielding airman. Indiana slowly nodded, "Wǒ míngbái."

"Rúguǒ nǐmen zhōng de rènhé yīgè dòngle, wǒ jiù huì kāi qiāng dǎ sǐ nàgè nǚhái!" the man shouted, tensing his grip on the gun towards Willie.

The woman herself cringed away from the gun, holding up a hand to shield from the barrel as she whimpered and instinctively tried to back away, pressing back into the crates behind her. Indiana swallowed, looking down to the holster on the right side of his belt... still empty from the shanghai chase. His eyes instead drifted to his daughter, where a more full holster beckoned to him.

"Jǔ shǒu!" the pilot screamed, waving his gun towards Indiana, locking his attention back onto him. Slowly, Indiana raised his hands. Eventually, the pilot looked down at Anna as well, "Nǐ! Bǎ nǐ de qiāng rēng gěi wǒ!" he demanded of her, looking at her gun holster.

"He wants your gun," Indiana muttered to Anna.

Anna nodded, her lessons with Short Round making it so that she more or less gleaned the meaning of her words. She slowly began to reach for her holster.

"Nǐmen dōu jiāng liú zàiyuán dì, zhídào wǒmen zhuólù bìng jiāng nǐmen jiāo gěi wǒ de gùzhǔ!" the pilot shouted, aiming his gun at Anna as she reached for her own.

Anna gritted her teeth. She got the general message that they were going to turn them back over to Lao Che... which instantly made a lightbulb flicker back on in her head. She looked over at Indiana, seeing his eyes as they flicked around the cabin, trying to come up with a solution. A rush coursed through her heart and into her belly as she unbuttoned the holster. The only reason the pilots hadn't murdered them in their sleep was because they wanted her alive... and right now he was threatening her with a gun he wasn't allowed to shoot her with...

Taking out her revolver, she pointed it at the ceiling with a nervous smile. The pilot held out a hand to take it, and the world seemed to slow as Anna sucked in a deep breath. Allowing the revolver to slide down into a level position in her hoof, she manipulated the trigger with her magnetic grip and squeezed a round directly into the man's general direction.

The pilot screamed as the bang filled the cabin, reflexively squeezing the trigger straight up into the air as another round bit into the ceiling. Blood stains began to pool around the man's sternum as Indiana rushed from his sitting position and tackled the man to the floor.

Anna's heart thundered as she reaimed her revolver as the two men struggled, pointing it at the copilot still flying the plane from the cockpit. She squeezed the trigger again, the shot going wide as she reflexively shut her eyes once more. Opening her eyes again, she cursed herself as she saw a bullet hole clean through the plane's windshield, the copilot now cowering away from view.

Something dribbled from the ceiling onto the floor in front of Anna. She took only a quick moment to assess what it was. Fuel gushed from a bullet hole in the ceiling, stinking up the cabin with fumes.

Short Round rushed by Anna, coming to beat one the pilot's limb as he struggled with Indiana. Anna cursed her distractedness, and looked to see how she could help, only for Indiana to land one final blow, knocking the man cold just after he fired off one final blind shot into the air, knocking another hole into the ceiling. Grabbing the pistol off of the man, Indiana whirled to wield the gun towards the copilot, but all he received was a blast of air as one of the cockpit doors flew open.

The distant sound of a man screaming caused Anna to jump up onto a crate, peering out a window as a parachute deployed behind the plane.

"Nobody's flying the plane! Nobody's flying the PLAAANE!!" Willie screamed, scrambling to her feet as Indiana rushed past into the cockpit.

Windmilling his arms slightly to gain his balance as he stood up, shaking the unconscious pilot off of him, Indiana staggered towards the cockpit, "Short Round! Tie up the pilot!"

Anna jumped down from the crate, looking at the pilot as Short Round grabbed a nearby rope, typing his arms to his torso. Blood spread across his jacket, "Dad! He's gonna die! He's gonna bleed out!"

"He was trying to kill us first!" Indiana shouted as he sat down at the pilot's seat.

"Can't we help him!?" Anna shouted, looking between the man and the cockpit.

Indiana leaned over the controls, looking at the gauges in front of him, "Just leave him! There's probably nothing we can do for him up here anyway!"

Anna spared one final pained look at the dying pilot, before looking up to Willie and Short Round, "Please tell me one of you knows how to do first aid."

Willie was too busy cringing at the sight of blood, and Short Round simply turned to her with a pained look on his face, "Anna, it too late. He gonna die soon. Go and help Doctah Jones."

Anna's eyes locked onto the man as, suddenly, the cold fuselage of the airplane around her became frigid. In her mind's eye, she saw the corpse of Wu Han, staring up at her from the base of the table in the club. The scream of the man as a lightbulb crashed against his face echoed in her ears as she looked away, bile rising in her throat.

There was something wrong as she held her hoof over her mouth. She looked up to the holes in the ceiling. Fuel was now dripping through them in small drops rather than constant streams.

"Oh god..." Anna stumbled slightly, tearing her eyes away from the pilot's form as she stepped into the cockpit.

Indiana struggled with the flight yoke, trying to keep the plane's nose level as he looked around, "We're screwed if we crash here. We might have enough fuel to make it for the nearest airfield, can you try and read the map to see where the nearest one is?"

Anna swallowed a lump in her throat as she lifted herself over the middle console and into the copilot's seat. Her eyes were immediately attracted to the fuel gauge, which was still above the red bar. She reached forward, tapping the gauge with her hoof. Almost instantly, the stuck gauge dropped to zero, the red "LOW FUEL" light blinking on afterwards.

Indiana's eyes followed her hoof to the fuel gauge, before looking back out over the nose of the plane as a sputtering sound began to emanate from the engines, "...Oh shit."

"You know how to fly a plane, right Dad?" Anna asked, hesitantly.

"No, do you?" said Indiana gave an uncertain side-glance towards her, "I don't think it's going to matter, losing altitude at this rate!"

Anna immediately reached for the radio transmitter in the middle of the console, "Okay, okay," she wracked her brain for the vaguely remembered conversation she had with Jock a month ago. Eventually, she reached for the frequency tuner, "One two one point five..." she turned the knob until the analog readout on the front read out the frequency, then she raised the transmitter to her mouth, holding down the buttons on either side, "Mayday mayday mayday, this is uh..."

She looked around her, eventually finding a clipboard shoved into the space between the seat and the middle console. On the top of the spreadsheet, the plane's tail number was written, "This is uh, Oh-Bee-Seven. One of our pilots are incapacitated, and the other has jumped out of the vehicle. We've run out of fuel and our engines are dying. Uh... help!?"

A faint crackle emanated from the radio, but no response came. Indiana swatted the transmitter out from her hoof and gripped her foreleg, "We're gonna have to ditch. Go back and check with Short-"

Short Round himself poked his head into the cockpit, "Doctah Jones! No parachutes in the back! Wait, there one here-" He gripped a backpack looking object on the back of the pilot's seat, only for a tumble of cloth and paracord to fall out, a clean cut ripping from top to bottom.

"This is going to sound insane. Anna, how much weight can you lift?" Indiana said, his previous question apparently answered, getting up out of his seat and clutching his hat as he bumped the ceiling.

"Not a lot!?" Anna blurted, reaching out and gripping the yoke as it tried to go back into a neutral position. The engines sputtered and died completely, their rumble completely replaced with wind whistling through the airframe and the sounds of Willie Scott panicking in the cabin.

"If you can give us a bit of drag, I might have a plan!" Indiana shouted, running out of sight behind her.

Anna gripped the flight yoke tightly, the hide wrapped around the bars for better grip squeaking slightly as her body tensed. The plane was steadily losing altitude without any power from the engines. With the mountain ranges below them, they had not the altitude to spare. A mountain peak rocketed by beneath them and on the other side, nothing but a rocky cliff face rose above the plane, an impact being only seconds away.

At that point, Indiana grabbed Anna by the scruff of the neck, pulling her from the pilot seat as she hissed in pain. A yellow, inflatable life raft sat next to the cargo hatch door, with Short Round clutching their bags as he stood next to it.

"A boat!? We're not sinking! We're crashing!!! AHHHHH!" Willie screamed as she pointed back out towards the windshield as the plane grew ever closer to the slope.

"Anna!" Indiana took four ropes, hooked into several rings along the sides of the raft and tied them together at the top, "Take this rope! Try and keep the raft facing upwards so we catch as much air as we can!" Anna blinked, spreading her wings slightly as she looked at them. There was no time to think though, and as Indiana gave her the end of the rope, she hooked her forelegs under it as he dragged Willie onto the deflated raft. Indiana gripped a bright red release handle, "Hold on tight to anything you can! Three! Two! One!"

The raft hissed as it inflated, before toppling over the side and out of the airplane. The rope yanked Anna out with it, her head barely missing the tail fins as they tumbled through the air. Wind whistled by Anna's ears and past her body as she dangled from the end of the rope above the heavier raft.

Her instincts told her that if she spread her wings to full span now, she'd do nothing but snap them off as they caught too much wind. As the ground grew ever closer, she overcame her fear and slowly began to spread her wings, the wind caught in them being overwhelming as she held onto the rope with all her might. No matter how hard her muscles strained to keep them from stretching to full span, the wind was simply stronger, and her wings were forced into full spread as painful spasms went down the tendons controlling them.

Despite the wind roaring past her ears, she could still hear one thing:

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The snowy ground approaching faster, and the raft (and herself) still going too fast, adrenaline willed Anna to flap despite the pulled tendons. Willing whatever energy allowed her to summon lightning from clouds and energize her whip, Anna strained against the ropes. The ropes strained, but the raft stayed open-side up. Its wide, flat base dragged through the air like an extra pair of wings. When the raft smacked into the snowy slope, their momentum was nowhere near fully arrested... but it was just enough that when the raft hit the ground, she hit the ground without breaking anything.

Ropes tangled around her legs and torso as she began to roll after the raft, sliding down the hill. All her ears could hear was the sound of snow crunching, the wind being knocked out of her, and the distant sounds of feminine screaming. Eventually, she stopped ragdolling behind the raft, the tangle of ropes straightening out as she slid on her stomach down the snowy slope on her own.

"Ow! *Pant* Ow! *Gasp* Ow!" Anna groaned as humps and bumps started to stick out underneath the snow, causing her to bounce along behind the raft. Between the snow being tossed into her eyes, she could see the silhouettes of her friends and family holding onto dear life on the raft.

Just when it seemed like the raft would slide to a stop, suddenly the raft dropped down in front of her. Letting out a scream, she was quickly yanked over as well by the ropes. Her wings, in no condition to provide any more flight, dangled uselessly at her sides as they plunged over the cliff. Before she could even comprehend the world spinning in circles around her, her hide stung with an impact and her ears were filled with the roar of water.

She coughed, her lungs immediately begging to take back the breath that she didn't have. Rocks and gravel scraped at her from underwater, and the demand for air eventually made her take an instinctual breath. Water entered her windpipe and caused it to spasm closed.

She burst through the river's surface, coughing and spluttering as she was yanked clear by the ropes. Hands aggressively grabbed at her and pulled her across a rubbery, wet surface. Vision dark and mind swimming, a hand slammed against her back, pushing water out of her throat as she finally reacquired the ability to breathe.

"IS SHE OKAY!?" Willie's voice screamed over the sounds of the water and the current.

The raft bounced back and forth, water splashing around its sides as it flew down the bulges and waves of white water rapids. Every single toss and turn threatened to upend the raft. Everyone on board clung for dear life as the raft was flung at the mercy of the rapids.

Finally, though, the world began to slow down around them. The raft stabilized as the sounds of the water died down. Anna slowly sat up, heart still thundering from adrenaline. She shook her head, flinging off water with it.

"Oh thank God..." Willie's voice came in her right ear, which perked weakly to face it.

"She alive? She not dead!?" Short Round's voice came in the other ear.

Indiana's voice, low and soothing, came as a hand clutched her shoulder, "Keep breathing, get all the water out. Don't worry about anything else, we're safe."

Not that Anna had any real choice in the matter as her lungs worked themselves raw to restore the deficiency of oxygen in her veins. Sensation slowly returned to her limbs as the effects of the snow and high-altitude water she had been dragged through fought with the sun overhead. She felt her right foreleg get grabbed by Indiana's hand as cloth was wrapped around it. She laid on her back, recovering as various parts of her were bandaged by cloth.

Short Round's head appeared over her own, his eyes wide, "Anna very brave. If not for her, I become Short Flat."

Anna chuckled tiredly, reaching up and wiping some expelled water from her mouth, "Anna is very brave. If it was not for her, you would become Short Flat."

Short Round smiled, nodding as a final bandage was tied.

Willie Scott, her complex and fashionable hairstyle and makeup completed washed out by the water, flicked water off of her hands, "I hate being wet..." she muttered.

Indiana sighed as he stood up, his head coming into Anna's frame of vision, "You okay?"

"I- I think so," Anna groaned as she sat up onto her haunches, looking over herself. The remains of her father's dinner jacket were tied around her legs and barrel, and were already staining with blood. She remembered the rocks at the bottom of the river, yet didn't feel any pain yet. The raft was now bobbing along towards the shore in the midst of a verdant, green jungle.

As her heart rate slowly decreased, now being safe, Anna suddenly realized that she was not alright. Not only had she been cut open by the rocks, but her wings- millions of sharp knives scraped against her very bones whenever she tried to move them. She gasped and winced, "I-I think I broke my wings!"

Indiana delicately touched one of her wings, "...Not broken. You dislocated it. Brace yourself, I'll try and put it back in," he gripped her wing, making her shiver in painful anticipation, "On three? One, two-"

Anna's scream echoed through the forest as the wing was forced back into its socket with an audible pop.

Chuckling, Indiana went for her other wing, "We'll give you some time to rest before we do the other one. Okay?"

Anna nodded, tears forming in her eyes from the pain, "O-Okay..." Suddenly, her other wing was forced back into position, causing her to bite her tongue and blood to pool in her mouth as she suppressed another scream.

"Try not to fly, let those muscles heal, you might've strained them," Indiana sighed, standing up and putting his hands on his hips, "Can you walk?"

"I think so," Anna said, hyperventilating as the pain all too slowly dulled in her wings. With a frown, she suddenly realized, "We're... not getting to America by next week, are we Dad?"

Indiana frowned, simply saying, "Probably not."

Willie kicked against the side of the raft in frustration, "Ohhh- you- ugh! I can't believe it, but I wish I was back in Shanghai! I had plans to watch Cleopatra tonight! It was going to be in my local theater! Then I was going to go home to enjoy my cheat day of- of ice cream, maybe some cake! I would've been freshly paid by Lao and everything!"

Anna, similarly, slumped, "Is it usually this nonstop, Dad?"

Indiana gave the slightest hint of a smile at that as he shrugged, "When it gets going, it tends to keep going."

Her heart sank with dread at that statement. Already, Anna felt as if she was exhausted - not just physically, but emotionally. She didn't know how good she had it in Bedford, with her nice house, nice food, comfortable bed, regular schedule, and friends. She'd kill just to simply be back, with her father, watching a movie in the cinema, eating ice cream on the way back home, and curling up for a good night's rest without any fear of people breaking in and taking her away in the night.

The raft knocked up against the gravel shore of the river. Willie Scott stood unsteadily, stepping out onto the riverside and raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Squinting, she asked, "Where are we, anyway?"

Indiana reached down towards Anna to help her to her hooves, but paused as he looked at something at the jungle's edge, "...We're in India."

Anna turned her head, looking to the figure that Indiana had spotted. An elderly, dark skinned man with white hair stared at them with imperceptible eyes, judging them silently as he stood at a distance...

Author's Note

Why do people say the fridge scene is ridiculous when the plane scene exists?

Also, my old Subnautica naming conventions coming back around here, naming chapters after names of the original materials' OSTs.

30: Mayapore, 1935

Anna plodded along with the group, the previously bone-chilling soak she'd received now turning into a damp, uncomfortable heat in the tropical air. It had been winter in Shanghai and America, but now, here in the upper tropics it didn't seem to matter what the season was. Mosquitoes buzzed around her, and for once her tail found its animalistic use as it swatted at the insects trying to land on her as she wiped the sweat from her brow.

"Oh god, I'm gonna get malaria from all these bites," Willie cringed as she swatted at another mosquito. Her skin, still moist from the river, had done a great job of absorbing as much dust, mud, and plant fibre as possible from their trek through the jungle. She was at least two times as miserable as she looked, and she made sure that fact was no secret to the rest of her party.

Indiana chuckled, "Gotten malaria so many times at this point that I got immunity. I'll see if maybe we can get some citronella oil wherever this man's leading us," he rubbed his arm, chasing off two separate mosquitoes.

Short Round adjusted his cap as he looked back to check on Anna, "You okay?"

"'Are you okay'," Anna sighed as she carefully hopped down a rock incline, one that the humans' longer legs scaled with no problem. The instinct to simply fly over obstacles awkward to navigate by hoof fought with the steady, thrumming pain in her wings, "And I'll be a lot better once we're back in America."

"I second that," Willie sighed, reaching up and brushing dirty locks from her eyes, "Ohhh I hope they have a shower at least."

"Ham lagabhag vaheen hain. Aap jald hee vinaash dekhenge," the Indian man leading them said.

"What's he saying?" Willie asked, wincing as she stepped on a sharp pebble, having ditched her high heels a while ago.

Indiana pursed his lips, "My Hindi's not up to scratch. He's talking about his village though," he said.

Scouring her mind for the lessons she took last summer, Anna threw in her ten cents, "I think he's saying his village is destroyed?"

They didn't have much time to question it, though, as a break in the treeline finally appeared. Beyond the break in the treeline, the terrain quickly became desolate and barren. A ring of rocky, gravelly land that stabbed at Anna's frogs lead into dry, parched earth. Even grass and weeds struggled to grow, their strands sickly and yellow. There were signs of agriculture on the land, with dying and withering plants attempting to lift themselves from the soil. Wooden fences surrounding a pasture were broken down, either by neglect or perhaps from an escape. Anna doubted the second possibility as she spied the dead, dry bones of goats lying in the dusty soil of the pasture. It even extended into the hill ranges beyond the fields, with dead trees reaching up into the grey skies topping crumbling hills.

Beyond the tilled land, sets of mud brick houses surrounded a well. It too was in the same state of squalor and disrepair. Several of the houses rooves' were collapsed. Trash littered the roads, and the entire place stank of sewage and death. The only living things aside from, possibly, the plants in the fields were rats poking around in the scraps of stinking piles of refuse and through the glassless windows of the houses. Their impromptu guide turned his head to look at them as he walked, his face grim as he judged their reactions.

Anna's nose shrivelled as she watched her step on the rocky road. Dust and particulates in the air, blown up from the dusty hills caused her to blink and squint. An uneasy silence settled on the rest of the group as their guide lead them through the village boundaries, they too no doubt unsettled by the absolute devastation portrayed by the environment.

"God..." was the only word mustered, coming from Willie Scott, as they passed an abandoned wagon sat next to a crumbling retaining wall.

The dirt and dried mud infesting the village was so thick that everything seemed to be coated with a layer of drab, brown paint. Anna's eyes, glancing at her friends and father, noticed they looked positively vibrant compared to their surroundings. Her own colored fur, although still damp and stained by a few days without a shower, looked bright against the decrepit, shambling buildings around them.

Eyes watched them from the buildings, only to be shortly followed by the shuffling of feet as the village's occupants slowly made their way out of the buildings and into the streets. Men, many of their ribs showing through their ragged clothes with sunken eyes and gormless, hungry expressions stared at them as they walked nearer to the village center. Anna subconsciously began to move closer and closer as she moved towards her father. Several women, many elderly and many with drawn faces and shaking hands approached them, speaking in Hindi with desperate voices.

"Dad, what're they doing?" Anna said, realizing too late just how highly strung her voice was.

Indiana swallowed as reached a hand down to keep her next to him, "...They're begging for help, Anna."

Anna frowned as the guide raised his voice and said something, causing the villagers to back off. As the crowd parted, Anna's vision around her was no longer obstructed by their bodies, and she saw what lay dead ahead of them.

It seemed to be a shrine of some sort. White speckling covered a giant boulder, in which the shrine was directly carved, seemingly by hand. A divot in the rock, painted with three white stripes, seemed to be a place to hold a relic of some sort. Something interesting called out to her the longer she stared at the stone, something that tingled at whatever instincts usually worked when she felt a storm incoming. However, it was unlike the energy she usually felt when working with her abilities. It felt like a negative energy, like a pressure void that a weather front was seeking to fill, except far more alien and foreign than it could ever be.

She noticed the eyes of the guide on her as she blinked, realizing she'd been staring slackjawed at the shrine for quite some time. Indiana's voice came from behind her, "What's up, Anna?"

Anna looked at their "guide" properly again. He was thin and unkempt, like many in the village. He wore a necklace of beads... beads like those usually meant something. She knew from the stories she'd been told, of the few lessons on world culture she'd received from her father, that this person was... distinguished in some way. She glanced between him and the shrine. When she glanced back, the man locked eyes with her, before simply nodding.

Taking a breath, Anna's heart raced unusually fast as she stepped forward towards the steps leading up to the divot. Biting her lip, she reached up towards the inset, touching the place where the three lines met. As her hoof touched stone, she scrunched her muzzle in confusion. Despite the fact that her hide told her that the rock was warm, no doubt from sitting out in the sun all day, her bones chilled at the touch of the empty space. She stepped back, analyzing her forehoof as she stood at the base of the shrine's stairs.

"You feel anything?" Indiana questioned, walking up beside her.

"Does the rock feel... really cold to you? But also warm at the same time?" Anna asked, face contorted with confusion.

Indiana made an experimental reach into the inset, poking the rock, "Just feels warm from the sun to me."

The beaded man's voice attracted their attention away from the shrine as he waved them towards himself, "Hamen jaldee se mukhiya ke ghar jaana chaahie."

"He wants us to..." Anna shook her forehoof off, trying to get rid of the chilled feeling she felt as she stood up, "...Hurry up?"

"I think that's what he said, yeah. Come on, best to try and see if they got anyone who speaks English. We need to get out of here to Delhi. Any chance you can check your maps and navigate us out of here?" Indiana asked, turning away from the shrine and rejoining with Willie and Short as they followed the man.

"I'll try once we're sitting down," Anna gave one last look at the inset before trotting to catch up. Her bag had been soaked during her encounter with the river, but the map itself was made of a type of paper that didn't just crumble when exposed to water.

"Good, I'd rather not spend too much time here..." Indiana grunted.

Willie Scott frowned as she joined their group, "The rats give me the creeps. I just feel sorry for the village itself. Isn't there anything we can do?"

"I dunno," Indiana dismissed, "I've been to a lot of pretty impoverished places in my time. This definitely tops the list, I wonder why they haven't just... moved out. It doesn't look so bad just over the ridge."

"If I had to guess," Anna chipped in, "Maybe it's cause of that shrine. I've never felt the way I do around that thing."

The building they were lead to overlooked most of the village, and didn't look too distinct. It too was made of mud bricks, with a few glassless windows and a door to guard the entrance. Planks were dug into the dirt to make the climb to the building easier, and a wooden swing on a rope swung lazily from a dead tree nearby. The sight of a plaything made a lightbulb go off in Anna's head as she panned her vision around. The villagers, while not in their faces anymore, still followed with curiosity propelling their exhausted steps.

That's when she noticed it, "Dad," she said as she trotted closer to her father, "There's no children."

"I noticed," he murmured in return.

Only a few more yards away from the house, the door opened as another man stepped out. He wore a white, slightly pinkish long-sleeved shirt that was only slightly higher class than the rags the other villagers wore. A red dot was on his forehead, and his head was covered in a cloth wrapping. His white beard clung beneath his chin, dour with the same expression that the rest of the village held. Initially, his eyes regarded the strangers with trepidation, but quickly the man with the beaded necklaces who had guided them here began to speak in Hindi with the better dressed man.

"vVe yahaan hain, ve hamaaree praarthanaon ka uttar hain. Ve humol parvat kee or se gire. Yah jaanavar ve apane saath laate hain, ise devataon dvaara bheja jaana chaahie. Vah bolatee hai, aur shivaling ke prati mandir kee bhookh ko mahasoos karatee hai" the necklaced man described to the other, gesticulating wildly.

The man brightened up as he looked at the strangers, a smile spreading across his face, "Is din ko aasheervaad den... hamaaree praarthanaon ka uttar diya gaya hai."

"Ve angrejee bolate hain, main unhen pooree tarah se samajh nahin sakata ya unase baat nahin kar sakata?" the necklaced man asked.

"Phir main unase baat karoonga," the man in the robes stepped forward towards Indiana, before speaking in heavily accented English, "I can speak English."

"Oh thank God," Willie sighed with relief as soon as she heard English, "Can you help us get out of here?"

"Yeah, we'd appreciate a guide to Delhi-" Indiana began.

"You will come inside and eat," the man said gesturing them towards the door as he stepped backwards into the doorframe, "I am the chieftain of this village. We have much to discuss."

Indiana chuckled, shutting his eyes and rubbing his forehead.

Willie Scott cocked her head as she walked up unsteadily behind him, "What's so funny?"

Indiana took off his fedora, brushing his hair before putting it back on and following towards the chieftain, "Whenever someone tells me, 'we have much to discuss', it never ends well."

Once they were inside the building, they were invited to sit. The chieftain's house was barren of furniture, and the dusty floor was the only cushioning they got. The only exception was Willie, who got a single straw pillow to soften the blow, which to her credit even though she cringed at the dirtiness of the pillow, she sat on without any further complaints.

Once everyone was seated, Indiana continued his previous thought, "Our airplane crashed up in the mountains, and we barely escaped with our lives."

"You are British? Australian?" The chieftain enquired as he sat down on the corner of the room opposite the door. Behind him, the necklaced man sat, his wizened eyes glancing between them, analyzing their every move.

"American," Indiana answered, "My name's Indiana Jones, I'm a professor of archaeology. This is my daughter, Anna Jones," he indicated to Anna, who had sat close beside him on the opposite side from Short Round, "My assistant, Short Round. And this is Willie Scott," he gestured towards the singer, "...My tagalong."

"Unwilling tagalong," Willie tossed her head, "Every second I'm in the world's buttcrack I'm losing business and fame back at home."

The chieftain tilted his head as the necklaced man said something in Hindi to him. Seemingly translating, he looked towards Indiana, "You regard this as your daughter?"

Indiana Jones sighed, "Yes. That's what she is. Her name's Anna, by the way."

The chieftain nodded, clasping his hands together as he looked at Anna. Eventually, he relayed the information back to the necklaced man, who said something else for the chieftain to translate, "Who gave birth to her?"

Indiana paused, rubbing his chin with his thumb. He spared a glance towards Anna, who simply shrugged at him. Turning back to the chief, he answered, "I don't know. I found her while I was on an expedition in Panama. She was alone, so I raised her as my own."

The chief relayed the information back to the necklaced man, who leaned back and placed his hands on his knees, seemingly satisfied by the answer.

The chieftain craned his head to look behind them suddenly. Following his gaze, Anna looked to see a group of four women marching up the trail towards the house, each one carrying a wooden plate of something. Willie seemed to have noticed too, as a growl of hunger instantly emanated from her gut, "Ohh, I hope this means dinner. I'm starving."

"Me too," Anna interjected.

The women arrived, holding out the plates to the guests with faces that spoke both of their own hunger, but also their grace and willingness to feed them. Anna's stomach, which had been rumbling all the way up to the point that a plate was passed to her, went completely silent as soon as she saw the food on her plate. There was rice, but it was covered and mixed in with a strange, slimy grey meat. She looked up at the others around her. Indiana managed a smile, giving a single nod and muttering thanks in Hindi to the woman who gave him his meal. Short Round cringed slightly at the sight of his plate, but still looked up and said thanks. Willie Scott, though...

"I can't eat this," She immediately said.

Indiana looked up at her immediately, giving a nervous glance to their host and the women, "...That's more food than these people eat in a week."

Anna blinked, instantly forcing a neutral face as she realized that a disgusted look mirroring Willie's had naturally landed on her own face. She looked down into her own plate, her stomach revolting at the thought of actually consuming what had been given her, but she sustained the battle between her mind and digestive tract as the two continued talking.

"They're starving, Willie," Indiana finished.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Willie went to give the plate back, "You can have it-"

"Eat it," Indiana affirmed, locking her with a cold stare.

Willie gave an awkward smile, still holding out the plate, "I'm not hungry," she said, her voice laced with a mixture of defiance and desperation.

Indiana gave a mirthless chuckle, before following up with a smile of the same kind, "You are insulting them, and you are embarrassing me. Eat it."

"Eat it," Short Round repeated, having already eaten some of his portion. No doubt, living poor in Shanghai had hardened his stomach.

Anna looked up at Willie, giving her a sympathetic shrug despite the attitude of her father and friend. Reaching down into her own plate, she braced as she shovelled a mouthful into her mouth, bile already rising in the back of her throat as she chewed and swallowed as quickly as possible. Never before had she wanted a cup of water so badly as to wash down the tasteless, too-soft too-tough meal that was in front of her. She tried to hide a tear that welled up in her eye as she looked back down at the plate, seeing that her ambitious mouthful had only cleared a fifth of the plate.

Willie, swallowing nervously, eventually followed Anna's example, shovelling her own mouthful into her mouth. Indiana could only smile as a similar look of bowel discomfort flashed over her eyes as she raised a balled fist to her mouth, trying to retain some gracefulness in front of their host.

Satisfied that his daughter and companion had at least tasted his host's food, Indiana turned back to the chieftain, "We need a guide, back to Delhi. Can you help us?"

The chief nodded, "Sanju used to navigate our caravans. He knows the way to Delhi."

"Ve pahale Pankot jaayenge, unhen bataayen," the necklaced man suddenly interrupted.

"On the way to Delhi, you will stop at Pankot," the chieftain translated.

Indiana blinked, looking towards Anna. She looked back. While she wasn't that familiar with Indian geography that intrinsically, she had seen a map of India once or twice. Pankot was north of Delhi... north of the arm of the Himalayas that they had crashed in.

Indiana knew the same thing as he looked back to the chief, "Pankot is not on the way to Delhi."

After translating for the necklaced man, the chieftain turned back to the group, "You must go to Pankot Palace."

Indiana let out a confused puff of breath, before shaking his head and tossing another small bite of food into his mouth, prompting Anna to try and take another portion. After swallowing, he continued, "I thought Pankot Palace had been abandoned since... 1837? Isn't Pankot administrated from Dehradun now?"

Another bout of muttered Hindi later, and the chieftain shook his head, "No, there is now new Maharaja in Pankot. Once more, the palace has the power of the Dark Light."

"What's he talking about, Dad?" Anna suppressed a dry heave as she swallowed another bite of food.

"Pankot used to house a cult called the Thugee. They did human sacrifices, slavery, and dark magic. The British killed them all in the 1830s," Indiana explained, eyes focused on the necklaced man as their gazes locked.

"Thugee is back," the chieftain said, not needing to wait for the necklaced man to give him his words, "The Thugee in Pankot, they kill our people."

Indiana frowned, putting his plate down. Anna gladly took the excuse, putting her plate on the ground as well, "What happened here?" Indiana asked.

The necklaced man gave the chieftain his words once again, and it was repeated in English, "The evil of Kali Ma, it start in Pankot. Soon, like monsoon, the darkness sweeps over whole country," the necklaced man, behind the chief, emphasized the latter's words by holding his hand over his own eyes.

"What did they do?" Indiana pressed.

"They came from the palace," the chieftain gestured upwards, before pointing out the window towards the village, "And took Shivalinga from our village."

"Took what?" Willie knitted her brow, looking towards Indiana.

Indiana frowned, brushing a thumb against his chin, "Shivalinga - they mean a stone, a holy stone of some kind that protects the village."

The chieftain nodded at his explanation. A burst of Hindi from the increasingly energetic necklaced man, and the chieftain continued, "Our shaman, he says it is why Shiva brought you here."

Short Round looked to Anna with a quirked eyebrow. Indiana simply chuckled in disbelief, "We weren't- we weren't brought here. Our airplane crashed," he made a motion with his hand, mimicking the plane crashing into the mountainside.

"We crashed," Willie affirmed, nodding.

The chieftain shook his head with a knowing smile, "No, no. We pray to Shiva to help us, find the stone. It was Shiva who made you fall from sky. You even bring with you a winged spirit as sign of divine blessing."

Anna huffed, "Flattering."

The chieftain continued to translate for the shaman, "That is why you will get Shivalinga, and bring back to our village."

Finishing their meals, or what they could stomach of it at least, the shaman and chieftain lead them back out towards the village. They would be accommodated overnight as the sun set, and would set back out again the following morning. They took the opportunity to hang out some of Anna's spare changes of clothes, which had been soaked by the river, to dry at least a little bit overnight. She'd also checked on the status of her map. The marker had run a little bit, but overall the map was still very much intact.

"Are we going to do what they say?" Anna whispered to her father as she slung her now much lighter backpack over her side again.

"I dunno. If Pankot Palace is really back up, there's probably a road... or maybe an airstrip there. We could at least check it out, maybe get easier transport back home. But, we'd probably save ourselves a lot of trouble just heading south until we reach civilization," Indiana responded.

The chieftain waited behind them, much of the crowd having dispersed to get back to work. Once he saw that her bag was empty, he gestured her forward, "Here, come to the shrine. We will show you what you must seek at Pankot."

Anna frowned, looking around her once again. Even after a full two hours at the village, she still couldn't quite comprehend the desolation surrounding her, "...Can't we at least hear them out?" Anna asked, "Maybe they're right. What're the chances we end up here, at just this time?"

Indiana waved his hand dismissively, "Coincidences happen all the time, Anna. Lao Che got us stranded here, and I'd describe him as the exact opposite of divine intervention."

Anna sighed, grouping back up with the rest of her allies as they journeyed back towards the shrine. She hadn't felt it at first when she was near the shrine, but ever since she'd touched it... her bones felt like they were being constantly gnawed on by hundreds of freezing, frozen teeth whenever she entered its vicinity. As the group stopped nearby, she reached up to her knees, rubbing them slowly to try and alleviate some of the feelings.

"Anna," Short Round suddenly whispered from her right, "It true that you are a magical spirit?"

Anna frowned. An hour ago, she'd have answered with a definite no. She'd still answer with a no to the spirit part - she was pretty sure spirits didn't have heartbeats and the need for toilet breaks - but the magical part? The drawn to whatever mystery was going on in this village? Maybe...

"I dunno," she eventually answered, "Maybe? Also it's 'is it true'."

Short Round slowly nodded, looking back away from her towards the shrine again.

"They took the stone from here," the chieftain explained, pointing towards the empty inset in the shrine.

Indiana Jones approached, frowning as he rubbed his chin, "Was the stone very smooth? Like the rock from a sacred river?" as the Shaman nodded, he questioned again, "And it had three lines on it? Representing the three levels of the universe?"

The Chieftain nodded as Anna approached as well, her heart rate rising as she looked at the rock. Her father's voice faded into the distance, along with the sounds of the crowd's clamor around her. Was it just her, or could she hear noises coming from it now? Like.. the booming of a distant drums... or maybe a large workshop? She heard water boiling, a whip cracking, a child screaming-

"Anna?" Indiana poked his shoe at Anna's fetlock, looking down at her with a quirked eyebrow, "You okay?"

Anna wiped the sweat that she didn't know had been forming on her brow, "Uh... yeah. I'm hearing things."

"What kinda things?" Indiana's brow knitted as he put his hands on his hips.

"Mining, machinery, music, screaming..." Anna shook her head.

Indiana's fist tightened at his side, "I swear, if they spiked you with something, I'm gonna break some faces."

Short Round performed the motions of cracking his knuckles, even though Anna knew he didn't know how to actually do it (not that she was an expert on cracking knuckles, considering she had none), "I bet you and me, Doctah Jones, we take on whole village."

"The whole village," Anna sighed, "Listen, don't do anything brash. I swear I'll start screaming it starts taking over my brain or something like that."

"If you say so," Indiana turned back towards their hosts slowly, his eye keeping track of her until he turned back all the way around.

Willie Scott leaned in to whisper something to Indiana, but Anna's more sensitive ears could pick it up just fine, "Your daughter's kinda weird."

"She can hear you," Indiana said in a less hushed tone, to which Willie responded by turning her neck and looking back at Anna with a look of surprise, then remorsefulness as she opened her mouth to possibly apologize. However, she didn't get a chance to as Indiana stepped forward to the shrine and held out a hand towards it, "Why would the Maharaja take your sacred stone? Why not some other one?" he asked, looking towards the Chieftain.

Short Round stepped gingerly around the older man as he went to inspect the inset, touching it experimentally like Anna had. The Chieftain, ignoring the child's antics, responded, "He come down to our village. He says: 'you will pray to our evil god'. We says, 'we will not'."

Indiana pulled Short Round away from the shrine, who proceeded to look towards Anna and shrug. She still felt the chilling teeth scraping and tasting her bones, only seeming to get worse the closer she got. Instead, she remained at a respectable distance, close enough to hear the conversation, but not close enough to get the audible hallucinations. Still, the occasional wisp of sound caused her ears to flick towards things that weren't there.

"How could a rock destroy a whole village like this?" Willie asked, stepping closer.

"Kya aap mujhe samajh sakate hain?" the Shaman finally said aloud, looking towards Indiana.

Indiana looked away from Willie, pursing his lips as he adjusted his belt, "Agar aap dheere bolen to main koshish kar sakata hoon."

"Jab Shivaling choree ho gaya to hamaare kuen sookh gae aur nadiyaan ret mein badal gaeen," the Shaman said, repeating it a few times until Indiana nodded in comprehension.

Translating for him, Indiana looked in the direction of his allies, "He's saying that when the stone was stolen, the wells dried up and the river turned to sand," turning back towards the Shaman, he asked, "Aur iseelie aapakee phasalen barbaad ho gaeen?"

"Nahin, jaise hee patthar gaanv se baahar gaya, phasalen dharatee mein sama gaeen aur jaanavar letakar sad gae," the Shaman replied insistently.

"The crops were swallowed by the earth, and the animals laid down and turned into dust," Indiana explained.

"Hamane dobaara paudhaaropan kiya, lekin ek raat kheton mein aag lag gaee. Purush aag se ladane ke lie baahar chale gae, lekin jab ve laute to mahilaen akele ro rahee theen..." the Shaman's voice lowered as his sentence trailed off. Several of the women gathered nearby began to weep, their chokes and sobs hushed and quiet.

"Then one night there was a fire in the fields," Indiana began to slowly walk forward, hands on his belt as he focused on the words the Shaman was saying, "The men went to fight the fire, but when they came back the women were crying in the dark..."

Once Indiana finished his sentence, the Shaman finished his own, "Tabhee ve hamaare bachchon ko le gaye."

A woman began to weep in the crowd as Indiana turned, an unreadable look in his eyes as he asked for clarity, "Un sabhee ko?"

The Shaman simply gave a single, grave nod.

"He says they stole their children. All of their children," Indiana said.

Anna looked back at the shrine. Somewhere, a little girl screamed.

Author's Note

The music Anna is hearing from the shrine is the Slave Children's Crusade.

31: Fortune and Glory, 1935

Anna rolled over slightly, her back brushing against the brutal, unforgiving floor as she desperately tried to find some place on the rotten cloth sack she laid on that wouldn't sting her with the constant ache of discomfort. Her backpack was her pillow, although it was a lot flatter without her clothes in it. She had no blanket... not that she needed one in the oppressing summer heat of the subtropics. Her winter coat, still present (although a lot shorter than what it would be from a full snowy winter), was shedding as quickly as possible to a more comfortable length, small golden hairs littering her clothes, tickling her nostrils, and getting in her eyes and mouth.

The sound of footfalls that she recognized distinctly as her father's caused her ears to swivel. He must've caught the movement, cause his voice chimed out soon afterwards, "Can't sleep?"

Anna rolled onto her back, rubbing a sore and painfully dry eye as she looked up at her father's figure, completely dark and silhouetted by the glow of the waxing moon above, "Yeah," she sighed, "Did they just not invent beds over here?"

Indiana's face was imperceptible, but the disappointment in his voice was clear, "Plenty of people sleep on the floor. Some of them are happier than some of the richest people I know in America. You're just not used to it."

Anna remained silent, knowing her father was probably right as she shuffled slightly again. She was in a wall-less gazebo, as it was the most spacious place in the village... and probably one of the more clean places too. Aside from the moon, the only source of light was a distant fire where a few men kept watch, no doubt the fear of the cultists keeping the unfortunate souls on their toes. Willie Scott and Short Round slept nearby on the far end of the shelter, enough that the two's hushed voices were unlikely to disturb them.

With a sigh, Anna looked up to her father again, "Dad? Are we gonna go- are we... are we gonna go back to Delhi?" she eventually chose to phrase it.

Indiana leaned on one of the supporting corner beams, folding his arms, "Most likely. I'm not all that interested in some random holy rocks."

Anna's brow folded, "I think it was more than just a rock... that shrine felt really weird. Like nothing I've ever felt before. There's gotta be more to it. And... I mean, look around us. Does all this rot and dust really look natural?"

"Crop failures happen all the time, and when your community is built entirely around agriculture it can lead to devastation. It's likely they're telling the truth at least about being raided, though," Indiana surmised, "It's real unfortunate. The Indian countryside is turning into a wild west and the British aren't doing anything about it."

"I know what I felt, Dad," Anna said, voice firm.

Indiana reached up and scratched the back of his head as he soberly said, "You're not built for the wild, neither is our tagalong. I'm not risking our lives further by tramping around the jungle just to poke around some ruined castle."

Anna drooped her head as she looked out the opposite way from her father's shadow, "...Can we at least send these people some money or something?"

"Sure," Indiana reached down and patted his daughter on the head as he stepped back from the shelter, "You saved our lives back at the plane crash. I owe you that, at least. How are your wings feeling, anyway?"

Anna shuffled her wings slightly, wincing as the sore spots at her joints began their dull aches again, something that had gone away only after several hours of rest after the crash, "...Not great. They're real stiff, and they hurt a lot."

"I'm sure it'll get better. Otherwise I'll fly to Germany myself to drag Uncle Johan back kicking and screaming to take a look," Indiana chuckled softly.

Anna cracked a small smile at the thought of that, before rubbing an eye again and yawning. After finishing her yawn, she looked back at her father, "...Dad? If I was making the decisions, I'd at least try and check out the ruins."

"Well, that's why I make the decisions," Indiana stared down at her, his expression changing though indeterminable in the shadows, "I thought you wanted to go home just as much as Willie did."

"I did, but..." Anna pursed her lips, "That was before they asked for our help. What if they're right?"

"If they're right, the best we can do is tell the military administration in Dehradun that their village was raided. They'll send the Army down to poke around," Indiana assured, before circling around and looking back towards the fire, "If I'm firm with them, I'm sure their guide can be convinced to take us to civilization. Otherwise, we'll walk. If we're careful, we can be there in a few days."

It was later in the night. Anna knew not how much time had passed since her conversation with her father. Sleep had come in short, hard-fought bursts. At this point, she yearned for the light of the sun so that she could at least go, walk around, read a book, something. Instead, she was in the dark, sleep evading her, as she alternated between shifting herself around and trying (usually unsuccessfully) to fall asleep. The shrine, illuminated by the moon's position in the sky, bode her with passive curiosity. What if she had stood closer for longer? Would she see things?

No. No, it was probably malevolent. A few more hours of lying around wouldn't kill her. Hopefully the trip to Delhi wouldn't be too long. She longed for the comfort of a hotel bed.

Eventually, she sat up, the frustration of lying down becoming too much to bear. She was hungry, but it would be unimaginable to walk into one of these villager's homes and ask for food, especially after how much they scrounged up for her the previous day. She could try grass again, even though she hated it, but it would require she walk all the way out of the arid, blighted soil to the forest's edge. Who knew what kind of predatory life lurked outside of the safety of the village.

"Can't sleep either?" a feminine voice whispered from across the shelter.

Anna looked over, her eyes barely able to perceive the silhouette of Willie Scott sitting up in her place too, "Yeah," she whispered, "I dunno how people sleep without at least a mattress or something."

"You're brave to sleep on that rag. I didn't wanna get lice, so I left mine aside," Willie Scott murmured, shuffling quietly over nearer to Anna to not risk waking up Short Round.

Anna had... not considered the fact that the cloth could be infested, and frowned as she looked down, "Uh... well, if it's infested, I am by now."

Willie Scott sighed, "Hope they have delousants in Delhi," she reached up and fussed with her hair.

"Me too..." Anna felt a flicker of fear in her heart as she thought of herself infested with fleas or lice all the way on the trip home, "I'd hate to be beating through the bush and crawling with insects the entire way."

"What do you mean, beat through the bush?" she asked.

Anna shrugged, "Well if the guides won't take us, we'll probably have to walk."

"Walk? For three days straight through this damn jungle? Seriously!?" Willie balked.

"Do you see any roadsters around here?" Anna gave an amused grin, before stopping and considering, "Well... they did say they had elephant paddocks. I don't know if they're still alive or not."

Willie's head turned to look out into the jungle surrounding the village, before she eventually asked, "How far is Delhi?"

Anna did some quick thinking about the distances of India, before shaking her head, "Well, we'd probably go to Dehradun and then take a train the rest of the way. About three days, by how my dad estimates. But... he's also a lot more experienced with hiking through jungles than we are, so maybe we might slow him down."

Willie snorted, her shadowed head looking up towards the moon and stars scrolling by above the village. Eventually, she admitted, "You're probably right. I'm not suited for this whole 'living rough' kinda thing," she sighed as she brushed something off her face, "I gotta admit. I'm torn. Your father threatened to kill me over a diamond, then saved me when Lao Che threw me to the wolves. Then he forced me to get on that plane, and come here..."

Anna quirked an eyebrow, "He threatened to kill you?"

Willie Scott paused, her facial expression shifting ever so slightly in the darkness, "Lao Che had one of his sons pull a gun on him. He grabbed me and put a fork to my side and threatened to stab me if he didn't put the gun away... then he did it again when Lao wouldn't give him the diamond."

"That doesn't sound like Dad..." Anna murmured, before an idea popped into her head, "...Well maybe he wasn't gonna actually stab you? He just wanted to make it seem that way?"

"I hope so," Willie reached up to scratch her nose. Eventually, she reached out towards Anna's mane. Usually, the only people touching her hair was her father ruffling it all up, but instead the woman just ran her fingers across it gently, "Your hair's nice. Smooth but thick. What do you use as shampoo? You use any special products?"

Anna scrunched up her muzzle, "Uhhh... I dunno what it actually is. It's just a brand that Dad gets at the shops, usually."

"You use the same stuff as your father?" Willie chuckled incredulously, "You saying your hair's all natural? No tricks or remedies?"

"Uhm, yeah...?" Anna looked up at the bangs of her greyscale mane, the fringe only barely visible in the moonlight.

"Well, I'd kill to have hair like yours. Naturally dyed, nice and straight... I need to spend an hour a day usually to get it all nice and in shape, and if we're taking all this time in the jungle it's gonna devolve into an absolute bush!" Willie huffed as she reached up and brushed something out of her face again.

"Thanks..." Anna smiled slightly, looking towards the woman with warmth in her heart, "...Your hair's pretty nice, even when it's all messy."

"Well it's dark, you can't tell what it looks like," Willie refuted, finishing fussing with her hair before reaching back out towards Anna's mane, "You know, I thought yours would be kinda coarse and stringy like horse mane - I've ridden a few horses back when I was a country kid - but it's a lot more like human hair. And good human hair at that. Have you ever tried styling it?"

"I've... brushed it?" Anna offered weakly.

Willie blew a raspberry, "That's not styling it, silly! I think even a simple bun would look amazing, it'd help bring up the back end of the mane. Though you have some length to work with... could do something a bit more elaborate. Ohh... if only we were in Shanghai, I could get you connected with someone who really knows her stuff," her face panned more towards Anna's haunches, "Not to mention the tail. You could do something with that as well. No girls I know can flaunt a tailstyle as well as a hairstyle."

Anna smiled awkward, reaching up and scratching her mane self-consciously, "I'll... pass. I've not really gotten into beauty stuff, and I've got... other things on my mind right now."

"Well yeah of course, not saying we should do makeovers in the middle of the rainforest," Willie shivered as she looked around, "But, maybe once we're back in the city, I can have a few spare moments to sit down and chat and show you a few new looks? It's the least I can do after you saved us all from becoming splatters on the mountainside."

Anna shuffled her stiff, painful wings, before shrugging, "As long as I get to put it back when I don't like it."

"Suit yourself," Willie giggled.

There was a pause, before Anna asked, "So... you seem to have it out for the wilderness a lot for being a farmgirl."

"I was the oldest kid in my family. Five brothers," Willie tittered a little, raising a hand to her mouth, "An absolute madhouse! I was never much for the actual farmwork. I helped my mom with the cleaning, the cooking, taking care of my siblings... she wanted me to be a nurse, y'know?"

"Buut you became a singer instead?" she questioned.

"Mhm," Willie confirmed, "I wanted to get out of dusty old Missouri, go to Hollywood," a pause, "I wanted to live in a world where I could do whatever I wanted without other people pushing me around. And when it came time to marry, I wanted to have enough money to be able to choose a man who would let me keep pursuing my own career rather than chaining myself to some asshole actor who would just put me on his mantle and make me look neat.

"...and then the crash happened," Willie heaved a sigh, "I struck out everywhere I turned. I had the choice to return to Missouri with my tail between my legs, or bet everything on a chance in China. Things were going well until you people shot up my club."

"The mobsters were the ones doing most of the shooting," Anna pointed out.

"Well, yeah-" Willie gave a snort, "Forget about it. So, what do you want to do when you grow up? Got any dreams?"

"I kinda wanna become an archaeologist, like my dad," Anna shrugged.

"Oh yeah? Full doctorate and everything?" Willie probed.

"Yeah. My grandpa says it'll be tough, cause usually girls don't get far in academia," Anna said quietly.

"Well, I think you should go for it. If you can deal with getting shot at and tramping around the jungle now, I bet you'll do just fine when you're a bit older," a pause, "...But I never really thought archaeology was like this. I thought it was more sitting around in libraries and digging holes in the desert."

"Dad says it's like that most of the time."

"I hope so, for your sake. Sounds like a dangerous job to me," Willie finished.

The sound of something moving in the brush caused Anna's ears to perk. She reached for where her belt was, discarded by her 'bed', and felt around for her holster as she looked towards the sound. Willie, clearly not hearing what Anna had heard, simply followed her line of sight.

Eventually, looking back, she shrugged, "Hear something?"

That was when something stumbled through the bushes behind her.

Anna jumped with a start, taking in an involuntary gasp of breath as she clumsily yanked the revolver from her holster, the leather flying with the momentum to somewhere unseen. A bang filled the air as light flashed through the gazebo. Too late did her father's words echo through her head.

"And don't aim your gun at anything you aren't one hundred percent sure you want to kill."

The bang woke Short Round instantly, and let out a panicked yelp from Willie Scott, her face illuminated for the first time that night temporarily in the flash of gunpowder. Anna's aim quivered as she realized that she didn't know what she had just shot, which was now a dark form on the ground by the gazebo foundation. Despite the shock of the figure coming from the underbrush and the fear it elicited, Anna immediately dropped her weapon and leapt across the gazebo to inspect it more closely.

The flickering of fire approached from behind her, along with the sounds of human footfalls, likely the villagers she had seen on watch earlier. As the warm light grew nearer, she finally was able to make out the body. With a mixed feeling of relief, Anna exhaled as she saw its chest rise and fall. It was the body of a small child with dark skin... although it looked terribly wrong. As the firelight grew brighter behind her, she was able to make out more details.

He wore no clothes, and his skin was covered in hundreds of blemishes. From what knowledge of first aid Anna had, she could recognize severe burns, lacerations, bites... and, oh god, those wide, red lashes across his back and chest. They actively drooled blood, and she recognized them as sympathetic pain coursed through a scar on the back of her neck: whip marks. The child's ribs showed through his skin, and his gut almost sunk away beneath the ribcage. His arms were nothing but sticks, and his fingers were nearly degloved as he held them up to shield his face.

The child parted his fingers, a haunting, almost hollow eye staring straight up at Anna. Slowly, using what must have been all of his strength, he moved his other hand away from his face. Voices shouted in Hindi from behind Anna, but she had neither the wherewithal nor the focus to try and translate them in her mind as he held out a small scrap of cloth towards her.

She took it, her hoof feeling numb as she held the scrap. An outpouring of empathy finally shouted over the cacophony of chaos in her mind. In that moment, she felt that she would cut off a limb just to feed the child a solid meal. She would fly him all the way back to civilization on her bad wings to get him to a doctor. She would...

"Ranjit? Ranjit!?" a woman rushed past Anna, almost completely displacing her as she reached out towards the child. The woman paused, tears pouring from her sunken eyes. The desperate state of the villagers seemed like the picture of health compared to the boy. Bile rose in Anna's mouth as she realized there probably wasn't anything they could do for him in such a state...

"Oh my god... that's a boy...?" Willie Scott breathed from behind them.

Short Round stood next to Anna, his eyes locked on the boy as he was carried away into the woman's arms, "I can tell he boy. He naked after all," an incredulous look came across his face, "I see a lot of bad things happen to little children in Shanghai. Never that bad."

Anna's ears rotated at the sound of familiar footsteps, causing her to break from her reverie. Indiana Jones's shadow was cast against the torches of the villagers, his head turned towards the child as he was rushed to one of the buildings, "Christ almighty... Shorty, go keep an eye on them," as Short Round dutifully complied, he looked back towards the group, particularly towards Anna, "I heard gunshots," he inquired.

Anna looked to her revolver, abandoned on the floor of the gazebo, "I nearly shot him. I was spooked," she murmured, walking over and grabbing the revolver again.

"Don't shoot if you don't mean it," Indiana scolded, before looking down at Anna's hoof, where she still clutched the cloth, "What's that?"

Anna looked down at the cloth, her expression clueless as she realized that she hadn't questioned what she'd been given either. She fell onto her haunches, using both hooves to unfurl the cloth and examine its contents. Indiana's shoes clicked across the gazebo floor as he loomed over her, looking down at the cloth.

A colored depiction took front and center, surrounded by writing in another language. The depiction saw a large, weird human with dark blue skin, red pants (or maybe it was a skirt?), and a white crown sitting cross-legged on the right side of the depiction. On the left, a more normal human of indeterminate gender kneeled with his hands in a praying position in front of the blue human.

Indiana's hand plunged into Anna's view as he took the scroll from her hooves, "Hold on a second..." he breathed.

Anna looked up towards him, her stomach unsettling as a familiar look went across her father's face. The light of the torches glinted off his wide, opened eyes as he scanned the cloth, his mouth sounding out words as a grin slowly spread across his face. Anna's muzzle, still firmly locked in a destitute frown, remained unchanged despite her father's enthusiasm.

Looking up from the cloth, his arms slowly lowering as he kept the cloth clasped in one hand, he whispered, "Sankara..."

"What does it mean?" Anna asked, sitting by her father's side and craning her neck to see the cloth he held.

The sun was just beginning to rise in the distance. The horizon was smeared in a dim, nearly cerulean shade of blue that contrasted with the dark night sky. The stars had fled, and the ambient light was barely rising to visible levels. The dead, scraggly flora surrounding the village was silhouetted against the rising sky, and the black shapes of the village buildings in the wake of the hills was wreathed by the smouldering embers of the night watch's campfire.

"It's Sanskrit," Indiana explained, "It talks about a prophet who climbed up Mount Kailash, that's in the eastern parts of Tibet," he pointed at the blue human on the right, "That's Shiva, one of the major gods of their religion. He's depicted here, giving five holy stones to the prophet and telling him to go and fight evil."

"What's the big deal, then?" Anna quirked an eyebrow, "...Is this unknown to archaeology or something?"

"No, I've read about this stuff in school. The Indian subcontinent is something I studied along with Near East archaeology," he tapped a finger on the center of the cloth, looking towards Anna with a passion-filled grin, "Those stones. They're the Sankara Stones."

"So...? What are the Sankara stones?" Anna quirked an eyebrow.

"Fortune and glory, Anna. Fortune and glory..." Indiana chuckled.

Anna was unimpressed as she folded her forelegs, "Yeah, sure Dad. But what is it?"

Indiana Jones blinked, before raising a hand and coughing into it awkwardly, "Uhm- yeah. They are holy stones, said to have magical powers and the ability to bring good luck and fortune to whoever has them," he reached into his pocket, bringing out his diary, with a pencil attached. Flipping to a blank page, he sketched the image of a small, cylindrical stone with three lines across it, "They look like this. But, there are reputable accounts of them glowing as bright as the sun, and emitting heat. They might be made out of an unknown material of some kind, and the community at home would kill to have it, know they actually existed, and to study it. Even if not, there are diamonds in the center of the stones, large enough to be visible through the translucent outer layer."

"Soooo... they're worth a lot of money?" Anna raised an eyebrow.

Indiana nodded anyway, snapping his journal shut and putting it back into his pocket, "We've made a total loss on this trip so far. Wu Han is dead, the Peacock's Eye is lost, I can't do business in Shanghai again now with Lao out for my head. This could be how we recoup."

Anna blinked in shock for a moment, before jabbing forward the question: "You're going to steal from the village?"

"It's just a rock, Anna," Indiana dismissed, "The failure of this village is just a coincidence."

Anna, eyebrows settling angrily over her eyes, opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sounds of small footsteps clambering up the slope of the hill towards them. Short Round's ballcap emerged over the side of the hill as the boy panted, straightening up and looking towards Indiana Jones, "The chieftain, he tell me that the boy came from Pankot. There are many more there, he say," Short Round wiped sweat off on his sleeve, taking a moment to breathe before asking, "What do we do Doctah Jones?"

"I think we're going to take up our host's offer for an elephant ride to Pankot Province," Indiana said, heaving up onto his feet from the stone he had been sitting on, "Hopefully, whoever the new masters of Pankot are might be willing to take in some wayward foreigners fresh from a plane crash in the mountains."

Anna frowned as she watched her father adjust his clothes and turn back towards the path to the village. Before they set off, she stated evenly: "Dad. It's not just a rock."

Indiana gave one glance over his shoulder, before simply gesturing for her to follow and plodding off.

Apparently, the only animals possessed by the village of Mayapore that had survived the famine were a family of elephants. Three of them had been lined up to carry the party to north, a bull, a smaller cow, and a calf, lead by a group of guides, who lead them around by the ends of ropes tied to chains wrapped around their thick necks. Rations had been loaded up onto their backs, both food for the people and feed for the elephants, along with their luggage.

At first, Anna was afraid that the animals might react to her with some amount of skepticism. However, she supposed since they weren't equine, they simply regarded her as some strange creature rather than an uncanny reflection of themselves. After probing her a few times with their trunks, they seemed contented to leave her alone.

As soon as the guide signalled the bull to raise one of its legs for mounting, Indiana climbed onto its back in a single, practiced motion. Short Round was given the calf, at first facing some difficulty climbing on, but with a small boost from one of the guides he was able to easily mount the animal's lower back.

Willie was much less fortunate, having neither the grace of Indiana or a beast with a short stature. The cow raised its leg for her to mount, though even with the guide's help she continuously slipped and stumbled. Eventually, with a surge of effort, she finally managed to awkwardly flop over the elephant's shoulder and onto its back, legs wrapped around its neck and arms gripping its sides as she struggled to maintain balance.

Anna, being unable to simply fly onto the back of the bull, was boosted up by one of the guides then hauled in by Indiana's hand. Standing unsteadily on its back, she eventually settled down enough to sit comfortably, within leg's reach of her father if she began to lose her balance.

As soon as she was secure, Indiana looked down to their guide and said, "Sajnu, chal dar!"

After a very short delay, the guide began to move the elephants forward, going ahead of them on foot. Willie let out a yelp as her mount began to move, clearly struggling to keep her balance as she continued to lie flat and hold onto the cow for dear life.

"Ohhh wait a sec, Indyyy! I can't go to Delhi like this!!" Willie shouted.

"We're not going to Delhi, doll!" Indiana shouted back, "We're going to Pankot Palace!"

"Pankot!? I can't go to Pankot! Ohhh-" Willie lifted her head up from the elephant's back, looking towards the groups of villagers crowding around, "I need to find a phone! Is there going to be a telephone anywhere along the way? I need to call my agent!"

"You didn't tell her where we were going?" Anna asked.

"I don't think they would've taken her to Delhi. These are all of their guides and they wouldn't have split up their party," Indiana shrugged, "If it's that big of a deal, she can probably get a more elegant form of transportation back south once we're at the palace."

Anna looked back over her shoulder, watching as Willie struggled to get into a proper position on her elephant. Behind her, though, she caught sight of the necklaced man, standing beside the shrine. His hands were clasped together in prayer and his eyes were fixed on her, watching as he muttered inaudibly.

The man continued to pray until the view of him and his village were consumed by the jungle foliage and hills.

The experience of riding an animal was new to Anna. The closest she'd ever gotten to doing so was riding in Marcus's carriage in England, and the subsequent ice bath had quickly put a stop to any further plans for satagee. That being said, the broad, wide back of the elephant allowed her to sit or lie down without much fear of losing her balance made this new experience fairly pleasant. Furthermore, as they encountered more and more groundborne obstacles along the trails, the elephants' immense strength made her grateful they weren't attempting the journey on foot, especially with her sprained wings leaving her grounded.

The landscape they journeyed through was picturesque. Once they left the decaying valley the village withered away in, they were once again wreathed in the tall, green canopies of the jungle, frequently broken up by long wetlands and winding rivers coming down from the highlands. All too often, the soil became muddy beneath the elephant's feet, swallowing their giant stumps as if it was alive. Anna could imagine herself swamped in the mud, drowning up to her barrel in the glug. However, the elephants' defied the wetland crawl, the sounds of the mud sucking desperately at their feet filling the air as they plodded forward with only a slightly larger effort.

The only put-off of riding the elephants was probably their smell. Anna initially blamed her own more powerful nose for the power of the eye-watering stench the animals were putting off, but it seemed like Willie Scott had noticed it too and was suffering alongside her. Regardless, Anna couldn't muster the courage to complain, considering that Indiana seemed to be entirely unphased and Short Round was either too experienced or too brave to be bothered by bad smells.

Rolling her shoulders to relieve some of the stress that holding her riding position had given her, Anna reached to her backpack and took it off, placing it in front of her. Digging around inside, she retrieved her dried, rolled up map of Asia and her compass, drawing her lips into a thin line as she focused on the details afforded to India. Wincing slightly as she convinced her wing to harbor the political map for a moment, she dug around some more until she retrieved her topographic map, holding it alongside the political map and humming softly.

Looking up towards the horizon, her eyes scanned until she found a distant mountain peak. Licking her lips, she stared down at her maps for only a minute until it all finally clicked in her mind. Taking her red pencil from her bag, she began to add extra lines to their course, showing them pushing further into Pankot Province.

"Got a bearing on where we are?" a voice from in front of Anna asked.

Looking up, she saw her father looking over his shoulder and observing her navigation processes. She nodded, "We're about halfway there already... give or take."

Indiana Jones quirked an eyebrow, "If it weren't for the elephants, we wouldn't need guides," he gave her an encouraging smile, suggesting, "You could've probably guided us to the palace yourself."

Anna blushed, before recapping her marker and beginning to neatly fold her maps again, "Well I'm still glad they lent us the elephants. Would've taken us forever to trek all this way on foot."

"Yeah well..." Indiana peeked over his shoulder at Willie, "I have a feeling our famous female american vocalist might've had some trouble keeping up."

Anna followed his gaze back towards the woman in question. Willie had taken out a bottle of some yellow liquid, and was applying it sparingly to the head of her mount. It trumpeted in response to the foreign fluid, to which Willie scoffed, "Oh, calm down you big baby, this is expensive stuff!" she said, dabbing a few spurts of the liquid around her neck.

Anna snickered a bit to herself, before raising her head and shouting towards her, "So! Willie! What kinda stuff do you sing!?"

"Mostly radio, before I got picked up by the club!" Willie shouted back.

Short Round spoke up, looking up from his calf and saying, "She is right! I hear her on radio sometime!"

As the voices of the travellers rang throughout the area, the elephants mounted the a slope leading up from a river's edge back into the forest. Overhead, birds were briefly seen flying south in great flocks before the sky was subsumed by a green jungle canopy.

Their first night in the wilderness was brief, only allowing the minimum time for them to dismount and catch rest by a fire before immediately setting out at first light. For a bit of variety, Anna opted to ride with Willie, while Short Round rode with Indiana to give the calf a break.

The next day was mostly spent trudging through jungle and overgrowth. The original plan for navigation had been to travel on a slightly indirect route until they reached one of the main roads, then simply take that all the way up to Pankot. However, this plan had been spoilt when it was discovered that, due to a recent storm, the rivers had burst their banks and flooded most of the major roads and pre-established trails. Now, instead, their plan had shifted to following a tributary up into the highlands, using derelict trails that would hopefully join up with the road at a later date. This meant low-hanging branches, constant obstacles, and rough terrain constantly bogged down their forward progress.

Quite a few times, the elephants were instructed by their drivers to break branches to clear for the riders. With their trunks alone, thick, healthy branches were cleaved in half and tossed aside to either rest in the undergrowth or roll down the riverbank to splash into the water.

Despite the initial positivity they had set out with and their exotic surroundings, the journey had quickly worn down on Anna. Her scant sleep at Mayapore and a similarly thin amount of rest she had managed to glean the previous night left her brain sluggish and eyes heavy.

Her father assured her that once they reached Pankot, which the villagers promised had been re-civilized, they would be able to rest for a while. Apparently, from what little he knew about it, the old palace had been particularly opulent, one of the old jewels of India laid waste around a hundred years ago. Anna hoped that meant a bed and a shower, while Willie wished it meant the same plus a telephone.

Anna eventually had to agree about the telephone. She wanted to send a call back home to her uncles, just to try and glean a small sense of normalcy from their situation.

The slow plod of the elephants made her sigh, the boredom, heat, and dirtiness pushing her sanity to its extremes. She reached into her bag, pulling out her ornithology book.

ASIAN BIRDS, from the same author that brought her AMERICAN BIRDS and ENGLISH BIRDS. Its pages were crinkled and slightly moist from its plunge into icy meltwater two days prior, and unlike the atlas it had not been built with hardiness for travel in mind. Still, she could carefully pry open some of the pages for the chapter on the Indian Subcontinent and appreciate some of the washed-out illustrations there.

"India is one of the most diverse countries in the world, both ornithologically and in other ways..." Anna read, humming to herself.

Willie sighed, reaching up to rub her eyes, "Yeah!? And what's that supposed to mean?"

Raising her eyebrow at the slightly aggressive response, Anna hummed, "Um, well- it means that there's a lot of different types of animals here."

Willie was silent for a moment, fingers rubbing at her eyes slowly at first, then suddenly in a very aggressive way. Shaking her head violently, Willie heaved a deep sigh, before looking over her shoulder, face stained with dirt and hair stringy with debris, "Sorry, Anna, I'm just- I feel like I'm on the verge of freaking out!"

"Uh- why?" Anna asked.

Shivering, Willie turned her head to look out ahead again before saying, "This jungle is driving me nuts. I need to have a bath- a-and a manicure, and-" she turned in her seat again and showed Anna her fingernails, "LOOK AT THESE NAIIILS!" she shrieked, "Ohhh it took me so long to get them to where they were and now they're ruined! And there's dirt under them!"

Anna couldn't precisely appreciate the value of nails as she looked down at her own hooves, seeing them lined with the usual amount of dirt she got when walking around back at home. With a shrug, she said, "Hey, it's not that bad. We're really close to being there. Just one more day, and I'm sure they'll have a shower and everything."

"Ugh!" Willie moaned, head turning once again as she reached up to wipe her brow, only spreading more dirt from her hands across it in the process, "I don't want- I mean, I do want a shower, but I want to. Go. Home!!! I'd be in Delhi by now if it weren't for his damned rock or whatever he's looking for!!!"

In the back of her mind, Anna knew that Willie wasn't listening to reason. However, despite this, she couldn't stop herself from correcting her, "We'd still be over two days out from Delhi, especially if the roads got flooded like they did here."

Willie gave a nasty look over her shoulder, before huffing and turning away to pout.

Anna frowned, leaning around her to look forward at her father. She caught her father sparing a glance over his shoulder, an unamused expression on his face. Fortunately, it seemed with the outburst, which had left Willie panting for breath, the singer had gotten out what she needed and calmed down slightly. Instead, she seemed to go from irrational anger to near tears, sniffling softly as she held her arms to herself.

There was a pause as the guides stopped to assess the way forward. Eventually, they seemed to decide it was best they ford the river, with them mounting the elephants to steer them from their backs. The calf had to swim, while the rest simply trudged through the neck high water. The cow, being slightly shorter than Indiana's bull, got deep enough to the point where it had to raise its head and trunk to keep breathing, and the water splashed against Willie's feet.

Eventually, the depth of the water receded as the elephants made their way up to the other bank, which was wider. The floodwaters had left the mud thick and gluggy, but the great beasts continued down it until they could step up a slope and back into the jungle, where the guides hopped back down onto firm dirt.

Anna checked her watch, still fortunately functional after her skydive and dunk into the river (the clockmaker in Marcus's hometown must have paid special attention to his work with all the money on the line). It was around four hours until sunset, where they could rest. It was hard to figure out their location with a lack of visible landmarks, but if she had to guess, they would probably be arriving in Pankot sometime the next day.

"We gotta be close, right?" Willie asked hopefully, voice cracking slightly.

Anna shook her head, "We're spending another night in the jungle at this rate, sorry. We haven't even found the main road yet."

Willie threw her head back for a groan, before setting her eyebrows and shouting forward to Indiana, "Doctor Jones! I thought you said two days! Two days and we'd be there!"

"Two days if we were lucky!" Indiana called back, "We're not lucky!"

"Of course we're not..." Willie muttered.

Two hours passed. Anna went through all the legible pages of her chapter on India about three times, then moved on to the rest of her legible pages. She hadn't seen many birds in the past few hours, ever since they had gotten back to travelling again after waking up at first light. That seemed to change as her ears perked at the sounds of wingbeats overhead.

"Oh what pretty birds!" Willie spoke up, voice slightly lifted for the first time that day.

Anna looked up, seeing several black dots crossing the sky overhead. She frowned, digging her binoculars out from her bag and putting them to her eyes. She'd just recently seen something matching the description of the 'birds' in her book.

"Those aren't birds, they're giant vampire bats!" Indiana called back from the top, just as a lower-flying flock of bats flew over the treetops nearby.

"...Vampire bats?" Willie mouthed, looking back up at the lower-flying ones as they screeched and called.

Anna shook her head, "He's just teasing you. They're probably just fruit bats. Pteropus giganteus, I think."

Willie, though seemingly comforted by the fact they were fruit bats, furrowed her brow at the scientific name, "I don't like the idea of something with giganteus in its name..."

"They're pretty big bats, but not really harmful unless you're a rat or a mango," Anna shrugged, looking down at the illustration in her book. She idly wondered what it would be like having webbed wings rather than feathered ones. She also briefly wondered what a mango would taste like.

The elephants plodded along a sandy trail near the riverbank. The murky, brown waters sloshed near the party's left flank, and eventually overcame the bank to come up to the elephant's feet. With the canopy broken overhead by the presence of the river, the sun was allowed to shine through and beat down on the travellers.

This, of course, had a clear effect on their famous american female vocalist. She once again grew more and more frustrated as sweat beaded up on her skin, flies buzzed around her, and mosquitos stung at her. Already, they were all welting up with bites all over their bodies. There was only so much that local insect-repelling herbs and oils could do to protect them from the onslaught of the vile creatures, especially when around large bodies of water.

Willie waved her hands in front of her nose again, chasing away several flies inadvertently as she did so. With a frustrated groan, she reached into her pocket again and pulled out her bottle of Parisian perfume. She began to sprinkle it again on the elephant's head, which elicited a trumpet of annoyance from their mount.

Their guide, several times now, had told them in Hindi (translated by Indy) to stop annoying the elephant with the fragrance. Willie, it seemed, was intent on ignoring his advice once again.

"Oh pipe down you big baboon," Willie scolded, "This doesn't hurt."

Anna looked up from her book as the elephant suddenly stopped and dipped its head.

"You know what you really need?" Willie said, nearly emptying the rest of her bottle onto the elephant's hide, "A bath."

The elephant responded by raising its trunk and hitting Willie solidly in the chest and face with a spray of water.

With a scream, Willie lost her balance and fell off, landing with a painful-sounding splash in the water several feet below. Anna, shielded from the blast by the woman, managed to stay aboard, even though she was still drenched by the backblast of the elephant's trunk.

Anna shook her head, tossing the water out of her mane as she looked over the side to where Willie had fallen. The woman sat up in the water, all but her knees and shoulders below the water. The rest of the convoy stopped as she began to hyperventilate, wiping her hair out of her face.

Short Round turned around, a smile breaking out on his face as he pointed at her and said, "Very funny! Haha!" he laughed, "All wet!"

"I was happy in Shanghai!" Willie whined, bringing her arms down against the water in anger and sending up another splash, "I had a little house! And a garden! I went to parties all the time in limousines and ooh god I HATE BEING OUTSIDE!"

Indiana frowned, slapping at a mosquito on the back of his neck. Short Round was still grinning, but had reined in his laughter as he looked down at the woman's misery. Anna simply slouched, ears flattening against her skull.

"I'm a singer! I'm gonna lose my voice-" Willie's voice cracked again, and she coughed as she finally stopped to breathe.

Indiana looked down towards the guides, "Ham kab tak pahunchenge?"

The lead guide shrugged, "Yah ek din lamba hoga."

With a sigh, Indiana turned and slung both his legs over the side of his elephant, "We'll stop early for tonight and rest a bit. Good place to set up camp and no point when we're going to have to wait the night out in the jungle either way."

Author's Note

guys help

Every time I write "India" or "Indian", my brain keeps automatically adding the letters necessary to write "Indiana".

I want your thoughts again on Willie Scott now that I've built her out a bit more. I've tried to keep her faithful to the fact that she's not a fan of wild things, and that she's not afraid to make it everyone else's problem. However, I've been trying to give her a few more sympathetic angles and more personality as well. What do you think?

32: Pankot Palace, 1935

The fire crackled, emanating a slightly uncomfortable heat and casting light throughout the small clearing they had made camp in. The party's early stop the previous day had allowed them enough time to wash off their sweat and some of the grime in the murky river water nearby, and after Anna had dried the remaining moisture off of herself, she had eaten her share of the rations along with her father and Short Round. Now, they played cards, remaining a comfortable distance from the fire.

Willie was late to the fireside, having taken extra time to bathe. The early stop had mostly been for her sake, so even as the sun set and the sky turned to night above, they had decided not to bother her. Just as visibility was becoming low enough outside the camp to have cause for concern, the bushes rustled and Willie came into the light, body still slicked with a layer of water and a stained sheet the guides had given her wrapped around her body.

Anna had been fortunate enough to have come packed with multiple changes of clothes in her bags, and had something dry (though not necessarily clean) to immediately change into after coming out of the water. Willie had no such luxury, and instead had to wait for the dress coat, pants, and shirt that she had been loaned to dry.

Looking up from her hand of cards, she greeted Willie, "Hey. How was it?"

Willie sighed, taking her panties from a branch and walking over to the fireside, "Thanks for giving me some time alone," she said wearily, sitting down on a rock next to Anna and holding out her undergarments to the fire, presumably to accelerate the drying.

"I call," Indiana muttered, taking a coin and adding it to the pot.

Both the sets of eyes still in the game turned towards Anna, who looked down at her cards with a frown. She had a two pair, which she was feeling pretty confident in. Yet, as she looked back up to the other players, she caught Short Round's gaze as he subtly shook his head at her.

She supposed that was her signal to fold. Short Round has gotten lucky several times that game, and Anna was feeling reluctant to lose any more of her money.

Indiana, though, seemingly caught Short Round's expression, immediately saying to Anna, "Call him. He's bluffing."

"I only want your father's money, Anna, you should fold," Short Round retorted.

Anna looked between the two again. Short Round continued to shake his head, while Indiana nodded. With a frown, Anna cautiously and hesitantly pushed forward a coin to match everyone's bets.

"What you got?" Short Round asked, looking towards Indy.

Indiana revealed his hand, "Two sixes."

Anna, being the next one focused on, revealed hers and hesitantly said, "Two pair? Kings and eights?"

"Three aces!" Short Round cackled, revealing his hand, "I win! You should have fold when I tell you to Anna, one more round and I have all your money!"

Pouting, Anna watched as Short Round took the pot. Giggling to himself the entire way, Indiana rolled his eyes, collected the cards, and began to reshuffle the deck, "It's poker, anything can happen," Indiana growled as his hands worked the cards.

There was a shuffle from next to her as Willie, seemingly satisfied with the dryness of her undergarments, stood to walk over to where the rest of her clothes had been drying on a sun-heated rock. As she stumbled over, walking on the detritus of the jungle floor with her bare feet, she asked, "So, where'd you find your, uh, little bodyguard?"

"I didn't find him, I caught him," Indiana responded, "His parents died when the Japanese bombed Shanghai. I caught him trying to pick my pocket."

Short Round simply nodded at that as Willie reached the treeline, picking up her clothes and beginning to find branches to hang them on properly, "And what about your daughter?" she asked distractedly, "You said you found her in Panama back in the village?"

Indiana looked over and met Anna's gaze as he finished shuffling, "I found her when I was between my first and second year of classes. She was crying alone in this ruin in the middle of the jungle. I thought she was some sort of rare bird and took her to sell to a zoo. I changed my mind when we figured out she was just as intelligent as any other girl."

"Then we fought a court case and everything to make America change its mind as well," Anna added, reaching down to pick up the cards that were dealt to her.

There was a sudden scream from Willie, along with the screech of some sort of bat. Anna looked up from her cards to see the famous american female vocalist drop a large fruit bat and run away from her clothes in a panic, disappearing behind some brush at the corner of the camp.

Sparing not more than a single glance towards Willie as he dealt his own cards, Indiana rolled his eyes, "The problem with her is the noise."

Anna looked back down to her cards with a shrug. Before she could really comprehend a strategy for the round, there was a sudden accusation from Short Round, who jabbed a finger towards her father and said, "Hey! You cheat Doctor Jones! You cheat!"

Willie screamed again as something hissed in the distance, causing her to run the opposite way across the fire. Indiana, more preoccupied with the accusation, looked down at his cards and say, "That was an accident, it stuck together."

"No! No accident! I very little! You cheat very big!" Short Round fired back.

Anna frowned and lowered her hand as Willie continued to run around the clearing, filling the air with piercing screeches as Indiana and Short Round descended into arguing in fast-paced Chinese with each other. The argument suddenly silenced, however, as Indiana grabbed Short Round's arm and reached into his sleeve. Short's face went from outrage to instant sheepishness as Indiana extracted an ace from his sleeve.

"What's this, then?" Indiana taunted.

Anna, seeing the stowed card, knitted her brow. She recognized this method of cheating from her very first game with Short Round, "Hey!" she shouted.

Despite this accusation, Short Round descended back into arguing in Chinese with Indiana. Willie ran one last time in front of them, tripping over a branch and falling onto her hands and knees as she glanced rapidly around, wide-eyed.

"You make me poor! Playing with you is no fun! No fun!" Short Round finished his tirade in English, wiggling his finger at Indiana.

Indiana threw down his cards, "Oh fine, I quit."

"Oh fine!" Short Round mocked, picking up his winnings and shuffling over away from the two Joneses to count them.

Anna, throwing her cards down as well, gave a dirty glance towards her father and hissed, "Why do you keep letting the little twerp get away with that?"

Indiana's face softened, and he gave a chuckle and a shrug, "He finds it fun, and in the end it's all my money. He can take a little extra winnings home with him as a bonus on top of his salary."

Anna narrowed her eyes, "You know, how come I don't get any salary or bonuses for playing games with you?"

"You get your allowance?" Indiana shrugged innocently.

Before Anna could retort, Willie scrambled back towards them and the fire, "This place is surrounded from all sides!" she screeched, "There's living things absolutely everywhere!"

"That's why they call it the jungle, sweetheart," Indiana responded.

Something roared in the distance, causing the guides, resting at the edge of the clearing, to look up from their own hushed conversations. The noise, however, caused the most panic to Willie, who stared in its direction with a face of horror, "What was that!?"

Anna, sighing and letting her jealousy simmer down for the moment, soothed Willie, "They won't come near the fire, Willie. We aren't worth attacking to them."

Willie glanced over her shoulder at them, "How do you know they won't? What if they're just really hungry or something!?"

"Do you see us all afraid and jumping at every noise?" Indiana offered, reclining against the rock he was sitting next to.

Willie set her brow, "I don't think either of you are great barometers to gauge the danger of the situation! That kid found being chased through the streets by armed gunmen fun, and you decided to jump out of an airplane in a rubber raft!"

Indiana chuckled as she scooted over to take a place by the fire. Changing the subject, he asked, "So, Willie. Willie, is that short for something?"

Willie adjusted the sheet as it hung around her body, before sitting down on one of the bedrolls prepared by the fire. Looking over to Indy, she looked him up and down before responding, "Willie is my professional name, Indiana."

Short Round looked up from his winnings, retorting, "Hey! You call him Doctah Jones, doll!"

"My professional name," Indiana responded, reaching down and picking up one of the coins from his pot and flicking it over to Short.

Anna also decided to shift over onto one of the bedrolls, directly across the fire from Willie, asking, "So Willie's, like, a pseudonym or something?"

Willie, with a sigh, admitted, "It's short for Wilhelmina. That's my full name."

Anna blinked, "...Huh."

"It's kinda long and clunky, so I shortened it to Willie when I started work," Willie said, "Don't use my full name unless you're talking to a police officer or something, okay?"

"Whatever makes you happy, Willie," Indiana chuckled, taking the re-stacked deck of cards and placing them back in his satchel.

Willie sighed, taking the bowl of rations saved for her, before grimacing once again. The quality of the food had not gotten any better throughout their trip, and definitely wasn't any better than the meal they had gotten in Mayapore. Hesitantly, she scooped up a bite with her fingers, chewing and swallowing before saying to Anna, "You're lucky to get a nice, simple name, Anna. Anna Jones. Rolls right off the tongue."

"Henry is a simple name too. Didn't stop Dad from taking a pseudonym," Anna said, giving her father a sly grin.

Indiana gave her a bemused look, before raising his hand and pointing at her, "Don't be so sure. One day maybe you'll have to write books under a pseudonym."

"I don't think so," Anna said.

After gagging on her first bite of meal, Willie looked over to Indiana and asked, "Why are you dragging us off to this deserted palace? Fortune and glory?"

Indiana reached into his pocket, retrieving the small piece of cloth that had been given to him back in the village, "Well- this is a piece of an old manuscript. The pictograph represents Sankara, who's a priest."

Willie and Anna leaned in, Short Round coming around to sit on one of the bedrolls to watch as well.

"That blue person is Shiva, the Hindu god. The sanskrit on the margins here says that Sankara climbed a mountain to meet 'em," he explained, running a finger gently across the painted depictions.

"What's he giving to the priest?" Willie asked.

"Five stones. Magic rocks, with instructions to go use them to combat evil," Indiana said, gently folding and re-pocketing the manuscript.

"Magic rocks?" Willie grimaced, "My grandfather was a magician. He spent his entire life with pigeons up his sleeve, made a lot of kids happy, and died a very poor man."

Indiana gave a nod as he surrendered the point, "Well, fortunately, for us they don't need to be magical. They're said to have diamonds in the center of them."

Willie's eyebrows shot up at that, "Diamonds? How big?"

Indiana shrugged as he shuffled over onto the last remaining bedroll, "Don't really know. Even if it's false, there's a good chance the artefacts are historically significant enough to get a good amount of money from a museum for them."

Short Round looked over to Willie and wiggled his eyebrows, "Be nice, maybe we cut you in?"

Willie, who had had a far away look in her eyes ever since the mention of diamonds, snapped back to reality and gave Short Round a dirty look, "Ugh. As long as your quest gets me to some place with a shower, a real bed, and a telephone, I'll be happy."

Indiana reclined onto his roll, sighing as he yawned, "Well, get some sleep then. We'll move at first light. Hopefully, we'll be there by noon!"

After a rude awakening at first light the next day, Anna sleepily allowed herself to be lifted back up onto the back of the elephant. More of the pain in her wings had been replaced by stiffness after three days of rest. Her father had recommended she keep trying to move them, so that they didn't "heal wrong". The idea, no matter how improbable, of her wings somehow healing back into an unusable state was enough to prompt her to listen to the advice, and she fought past the stiffness and the quieter pangs of injury to keep her wings moving.

Eventually, the untamed undergrowth of the asian rainforest gave way to signs of human civilization. Fields were cut into clearings in the forest, full with rich yellow and green crops. Anna spied a few farmers in their fields, some of them even giving her and her companions glances as they convoyed past. They rounded a turnin the road, and through the hills to the distant north, they laid eyes on it.

It could only be Pankot Palace, Anna thought, as she spied it. Made out of a light brown - perhaps beige - material and resting on top of a mountain, the castle was almost elevated to the heavens amongst the nearby hilly landscape. Even from this distance, Anna could recognize the splendor. Tall spires, walls and plazas, gardens, and paved roads surrounded the castle, winding from the countryside and up towards the jewel of the jungle's crown.

"That's it, Pankot Palace," Indiana shouted to the group, turning around with a cheeky grin towards Willie Scott, "Up to your expectations, doll?"

"It looks gorgeous!" Willie breathed, ignoring Indiana's comment.

Short Round looked between the palace and Indiana, "It remind me of White House!"

"White House is smaller, much smaller," Indiana chuckled, "...And more boring, I think."

"Will we live somewhere like that when we come home with Sankara?" Short Round asked.

Indiana shrugged, keeping his eyes on the palace as he turned his head back towards the road, "Maybe. Probably not though, I doubt the scientific community will prize some shiny rocks as much as the people who stole them from Mayapore."

Anna frowned, leaning forward towards Indiana as Short Round stared at the palace, "Dad? I really think we should return those stones..."

Indiana sighed heavily, "Anna. We've had this conversation..."

"Yeah, well-" Anna started, only to be cut off.

"There are five of them, Anna. Five stones, remember?" Indiana dismissed with a wave of his hand, "Maybe we return one of them. They don't need all of them," he admitted, before doubling down again, "And! And even if there's only one at Pankot, it won't help them to give it back!"

"But it's something that's part of their culture, Dad!" Anna argued, brows knitting in frustration, "And their religion! It's just not right to just be- stealing that from them!"

"They won't know," Indiana murmured.

Anna ground her teeth, leaping at the moral high ground with vigor, "That's no excuse, Dad! And you know it!"

Indiana placed his hands on the sides of the elephant, steadying himself as he shifted himself over far enough to turn around and look Anna in the eyes, "That's enough, Anna Jones! Remember the rules? I won't hear any more of it, okay? You're not even meant to be here, you're meant to be safe in Europe with Marcus! We've lost the Peacock's Eye, and fortune's giving us another chance! You need to listen to me, or we're coming home empty-handed!"

Anna spluttered, feeling like she had been slapped across her face. Her stomach sank as crawling sensations went across her skin, "But..." but what? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite grasp for a retort.

Indiana's eyes momentarily lost contact with Anna's, and his expression changed to a moment of realization as he glanced between Willie and Short Round. Anna followed his gaze, the turn of her head making her realize that her eyes were watering, and shame crossed her face. Willie had winced, staring onwards at the two as if she couldn't look away, while Short Round's shoulders had drooped and his eyes looked up towards Indiana with an indecipherable look. Swallowing, he turned around away from them back to the front. Silence overtook them as the plodding of the elephants punctuated the beating of Anna's heart. Fortunately, the guides didn't understand a thing, and only gave a few odd looks towards Indiana and Anna.

After a moment, Indiana sighed, "...Sorry. Anna, you've been really brave so far. But you need to let me make the decisions, for both of our sakes, okay?"

Anna's lip curled bitterly as she turned her face away from her father. Retorts bubbled up, burning her scalp with their pressure. She wanted to shout at him that he still hadn't proved her wrong, that she was still right... but at the very same time, the anger that made her want to shout made her want to sit and let her father stew. It wouldn't solve anything... but she didn't care.

The mood thoroughly ruined, there was no more conversation to be had as the group plodded through the forest. Not even the usual rattle of complaints from Willie was spoken through the gloom as the woman settled for breathing through her mouth rather than her nose and messing with her hair. Anna's heart panged for Short Round, who looked particularly broken up... maybe even more than Anna herself.

The jungled closed back around them as a river slowly meandered off to the right. Bats flew overhead again, the beating of their wings distracting Anna from her commiseration. From the mutter of, "Damn giant bats..." from behind her, Anna figured that Willie had noticed them too.

Something struck her as odd, though. It was nearly midday. Bats were generally asleep at this time, not out and about hunting. What could have disturbed them...?

Suddenly, one of the guides, having patrolled ahead of the elephants as they went through the thicket, stopped. The elephant riders stopped the beasts as he did, looking curiously ahead as the lead guide began to whisper something to himself. His voice rose from a whisper and became louder and louder, shouting something hysterically in Hindi as he stumbled backwards.

"Main neeche jaoonga," Indiana murmured to the guide of their elephant.

Nodding, the guide signalled to the elephant to raise one of its feet, allowing Indiana to climb down the leg to the ground safely. Anna frowned, considering hopping off the elephant as well. Eventually, she decided the bother of being helped to climb back up was worth sating her curiosity, and she jumped down to the ground. Her knees and shoulders twanged with pain as she hit the ground from the height, but she walked forward behind her father nonetheless.

Indiana, not minding his daughter's hoofbeat behind him, patted the panicking guide on the shoulder as he walked past him. He reached for his holster only to touch the empty flap at his side, his lips twitching with annoyance as he withdrew his hand and continued his walk forward.

Vines and bush grew ahead, but both Anna and she assumed her father could see something manmade on the other side. The stench of rot stung at Anna's nose, and she took a moment to wipe the water in her eyes as Indiana reached forward, sweeping and pulling the plant life aside. The object was revealed; a towering stone statue with a cruel, carved face. Fangs seemed to protrude from a mouth belonging to a face that Anna could only vaguely recognize as female. Human skulls covered the demon-esque visage, jaws agape in endless screams. A bowl sat in front of the statue, smeared inside with something putrid. Around its neck, a twine held up a necklace.

Anna felt a similar feeling overtake her as the one she felt when touching the shrine. Knives of ice scraped at her bones, and whispers echoed from the undergrowth around her. Her ears flattened as she stepped back, eyes quivering as she stared at the adornments on the necklace.

"Oh my god... are those human fingers!?" Willie screamed from behind Anna.

Bile smashed against the back of Anna's throat as she heaved, the little remnants she had of breakfast pushing past her choking throat as she vomited. The smell, malaise of the statue's aura... she heaved again.

"Doctah Jones, Anna, what you look at?" Short Round's voice came from behind Anna as she turned around, shielding her eyes from the gory visage.

"Don't come up here," Indiana warned.

Bats flocked across the sky as Anna's stomach finally stopped clamping down on itself. Their screeches filled the air as the guides started to panic, shouting in Hindi as they rushed back towards the elephants. Fortunately... or perhaps unfortunately, Willie and Short Round had seen it fit to dismount their elephants as well, as the guides took the reigns and began to run in the opposite direction of the statues, back up the trail. The small comfort was that they at least had the mind to kick the group's bags off of the elephants before they stampeded away.

"Ohhh Indyyyy! They're taking our rides!" Willie screamed, waving her hands in the air as their guides fled back through the forest, eventually stopping to cough and beat at the air as the dust kicked up by the elephants got into her face.

Indiana's shoes stepped down near Anna's hunched-over form as he gave a passive, concerned look towards her. Facing Willie and Short Round, he announced, "We'll be walking from here."

It was a hard three hour's walk down the road, especially once the road turned uphill. The forests died out as they came into the highlands, giving way to shrubs spread out across open plains. More farms cultivated the hills and valleys, growing rich and full. Animals grazed in pastures, and Anna peered as she saw even a few pigs and cows.

"Hey Dad..." Anna asked, looking up to see her father's head turned towards the same pastures she was examining, "...Aren't Hindus like, not meant to interact with pigs?"

"And they're also not to eat cows. Look at how heavy the cattle are. They're raising them for meat," Indiana nodded towards the fattened cows, brow knitting as he looked back forward towards the road.

"This place kinda reminds me of home, ow-" Willie hissed as she staggered behind them, face contorted in pain as she dealt with the gravel road with nothing but Indiana's dress shoes, "Mmf- just fewer chickens!"

Short Round rubbed his belly as an audible growl reached Anna's ears, "You think they have beef up in palace? Maybe hamburger, Doctah Jones?"

Indiana's face twitched as he stared up towards the looming palace, "Maybe they will. If they do, I'm afraid it'll be more troubling than filling..."

The day was ending. Blue skies gave way to bright, shining orange as the sun approached the horizon. Not a single cloud polluted the sky, the golden hue only being complimented with the occasional swarm of bats flocking between the patches of untamed jungle in the distance. The golden fields of grain, the green fields of rice, and the orchards and pastures almost seemed to bow towards the mountain they climbed as the sun cast its shadows across them.

The palace was now close enough to truly appreciate. Another twenty minute's walk or so, and they'd be directly in the massive structure's shadow. Anna could now see that the entire complex, towering several stories high and perched up near the escarpment's highest altitudes, was surrounded by a wall near its base. A river seemed to run from the top of the palace complex, watering an array of gardens perched upon scenic plazas and balconies as it flowed down towards the walls and out a large, gated drain. The road ahead of them, paved with cobblestone at last after miles of gravel and dirt, lead into a wide outer boulevard that seemed to wrap around the palace's walls in both directions. Bushes carrying thorns and flowers rustled gently in the constant breeze that swept in from the west, the occasional tree breaking up the monotony in the green wreathing of the road. Directly ahead of them was what appeared to be the main entrance: a gaping gate in the midst of the wall, accentuated with delicate arches and carvings, with its portcullis raised.

She could see the dark faces of several men lining the walls, clearly guards. They seemed to be armed, just not with rifles. Bows were silhouetted against their backs, and several of them watched down upon them with dark eyes. They wore white and red garb, with opulent headdresses and silky gowns. Clearly, made more for show than for combat.

Two of the finely dressed guards stood by the main gate, each wielding long spears with a small red sash attached just beneath the head. One held out a hand, speaking in clear but accented English, "Halt! Are you expected?"

Indiana took the initiative as the rest of the group stopped, stepping forward and putting his hands together in greeting, "Hello, sir. I'm an archaeologist from America. I was on a trip from Shanghai to Delhi, when our plane crashed. A local village directed us here, saying that you could help."

The guard's stern face remained stable as he turned and shouted something in Hindi behind him. After a short conversation with someone just out of sight, the guard turned back around and spoke again in English, "Please remain here. I have sent a message for my masters," the guard's eyes scanned the members of Indiana's group, and much to Anna's unsurprise, settled firmly on her. A finger pointed in her direction, "What is this large bird you have brought?"

Indiana chuckled dryly, "This is my daughter, Anna."

"Hi," Anna offered with a roll of her eyes.

The guard's venere of professionalism nearly broke as he blinked rapidly in Anna's direction. Eventually, the guard looked to his companion, who simply glanced back at him. With a shrug, he reaffirmed his grip on his spear as he continued his stand at attention.

Whoever the masters of the palace were, they sure kept stranded strangers waiting. The sun continued to crawl down as the group eventually decided without discussion to sit down in a vague circle in front of the gates on the, thankfully smooth, cobblestones. At the very least, the view was pleasant enough to distract them.

"What I wouldn't give to live in a place like this..." Willie cooed as she absent-mindedly chewed on the edge of a broken fingernail, looking up wide-eyed at the towering palace.

"Marry the Maharaja and maybe you'll get that chance," Indiana chuckled, "I've heard men in these parts are quite partial to white women to add to their harems," he said, grinning mischievously.

Willie's smile fell as she looked at him, almost offended, "Ew! Cut that out!"

"I'm just saying what I know," Indiana defended with a pair of raised hands.

Anna peered at one of the nearby flower bushes, leaning forward and sniffing one of the flowers. The bushes obviously weren't planted for their scent, but the small amount of floral scent the flower did have was enough to please her nose, "Whoever's in control here, they're real rich, that's for sure. If the inside is a fraction as pretty as the outside, then it could probably compete with the palaces of the rulers of entire countries... let alone a province."

Short Round rubbed the back of his neck, "Anna, when you wings better, you take me flying here okay?"

Before Anna could think of a response, a male voice turned the heads of her and her friends towards the gate, "I must say, you all look rather lost!" a man, dressed in a grey suit and tie, shouted from the gate of the palace, "But then again, I cannot imagine where the three of you would look at home!"

The man walked down the few steps from the main gate towards where they were sitting. His English accent and European-style garb would've lead Anna to peg him as an Englishman, if it weren't for the complexion of his skin, which looked more like a fairer shade of a darker skintone. A pair of glasses sat on his nose, and polished dress shoes clicked across the cobblestones towards them. A golden watch was wrapped around his right wrist, and he smelled of a fine cologne.

Indiana Jones grunted as he stood up, Anna, Willie, and Short Round following his example, "Well, hopefully we're not lost anymore," he said, putting on a smile, as he stretched out a hand towards the well-dressed man.

The man took his hand with a polite nod, "My name is Chatter Lal. I am the Prime Minister to his highness the Maharaja. Who are your... companions?" his eyes quickly glanced between Willie and Short Round, but settled firmly on Anna as he said the final word in his sentence.

"Hi, my name's Anna," Anna rolled her eyes, knowing it was going to be one of those days where she was going to have to justify her ability to talk to every stranger she met, sticking out a hoof up towards the prime minister.

Chattar Lal blinked, reaching out and taking her hoof and shaking it, before withdrawing and dusting his hands off, "I took classes on the animal kingdom in Oxford. Can't say I've ever heard of something that can mimic human speech that well..."

Indiana's smile became more forced as he reached down to his belt and adjusted it, "She's my daughter, sir. She can talk, think, and feel just like you or I."

Chattar Lal grimaced nervously as he looked back down towards Anna, "Sorry about that, miss..."

Anna mustered up the energy to grunt and say, "It's not the first nor the last time I've been called an animal or petted like a dog by a stranger."

Indiana Jones relaxed slightly when the prime minister apologized, and eventually reached out and patted Short Round on the shoulder, "This is Short Round, my assistant," he then jerked a thumb towards Willie, "This is Miss Willie Scott," then he placed his hands back on his hips, "And I'm Indiana Jones."

At the name, Chattar Lal seemed to blink with recognition, "Doctor Jones? The preeminent archaeologist?"

Willie huffed as she leaned forward around Indiana, "Hard to believe, isn't it?"

Chatter Lal snapped his fingers as he looked towards Indiana, "Of course! I've read about you in university!" he turned his attention then towards Willie, reaching out his hand to shake hers, "Enchanted to meet you too, madame."

Willie took the polite greeting in stride, face brightening up with a genuine smile as she shook his hand, "Thank you very much, Mr. Lal!"

He withdrew his hand before turning and waving for them to follow, "Of course, you are welcome in Pankot Palace. You've come at quite an opportune time as well," he said as he scaled the steps, the group following behind him as they entered the palace compound, "There is a regiment of the British Army staying here on inspection. They travel back to Delhi in a week's time, I'm sure they can escort you then... unless you need to leave urgently, of course."

Indiana grinned as his eyes fixated on the Prime Minister, "Nah, I'd be more than delighted to stay a few days and... examine such an important example of the local architecture and customs."

"Ah, of course, your doctoral mind encourages that no doubt!" Chattar snapped his fingers again as the guards stepped aside for them, "I have no doubt that we can grant you a very detailed tour of the palace during your stay here! Oh- and," he turned waggled a finger towards them as they came into a lower courtyard, "I shall have you set up with some suites and baths. I do not make any untoward presumptions in thinking that your daughter will require a room?"

Anna opened her mouth, but Indiana cut her off as he quickly clarified, "Of course."

"Right, silly of me to even ask then!" Chattar Lal adjusted his tie as he looked away again.

Beyond the gates, they seemed to enter a tiered system of courtyards. Low, slouched buildings hugged the walls around the perimeter of the palace, no doubt being a place for servant's quarters and the like. The main part of the palace was above them, up a few more storey's worth of ramped roads. Between them and the entrance to the palace proper, though, was a system of three courtyards. The river Anna had spotted earlier ran through this place, and the water gubbled in a series of waterfalls cascading down every tier.

The lowest tier was the largest, being cut into the mountain slightly. It was wide, open, and grassy. Several equidistant rounded areas of soil were wreathed by rich, vibrant flower bushes, with trees growing in the middle of the circles of soil to tie them together. Fruits hung from their branches, several having fallen to the ground beneath them and contributing to a pulp of dead leaves and plant refuse that was stylishly restricted to only be behind these flower bushes. Around the path leading to the ascent to the next courtyard benches of stone with delicate carvings on them, wide and luxurious enough to lie down or recline on without a lack of space, were evenly spaced out. A few paths branched out, allowing one to explore the rest of the courtyard without straying onto the grass. Anna spotted a series of buildings that stood out from the servant's quarters along the walls. The familiar scent of equine animals wafted down the wind from it, and she could only assume they were stables. They were lead without incident past them and up a flight of grand stairs to the second tier.

The second tier of the opulent palace greenery was an orchard. The plaza was level with the top of the outer walls, and thus the brilliant glow of the setting sun and the cool breeze reached through. The leaves of what had to be around fifty different fruit trees, each of a different type, rustled in the wind. Most of their branches, those that were in season Anna supposed, were laden heavily with the most delectable kinds of fruits, each one gloved in bright oranges, greens, reds, purples, and pinks. Palace staff, Indian men and women, worked in between the trees at a steady pace, so focused in fact that they didn't seem to spare a single glance towards their visitors.

The dominant feature of this part of the palace was the river, cut into a canal that ran naturally through the orchard, that originated from somewhere in the rock that the palace was built on top of. It ran past, flowing rapidly, but its bottom only being a few feet below the surface. The beams of the sun ricocheted off the rapidly shifting surface, sending sparkles of light up towards the eyes. Several bridges crossed the river, one of them the group took to cross over and continue following the footpath further towards the next set of stairs.

Walking by what seemed to be an apple tree, Short Round ran ahead of the group slightly and set his sights on one of the low-hanging fruits of the tree's branches: a bright green apple. Jumping for it, the young boy managed to grasp it on his third attempt, plucking from the branch and causing the tree to recoil from the branch snapping back. A mouth-watering and ear-tingling crunch met Anna's ears as Short Round bit into the fruit, juices spraying out the sides of lips and down his hands as he smiled and chewed.

"Don't spoil your appetite too soon," Chattar Lal said, glancing towards Short Round as he turned up the path leading towards the next yard, "There is a state dinner tonight for the British commander, his officers, and several other dignitaries from across the province! I will ask His Highness to allow some seats for you and your friends, as I have no doubt he will be interested to speak with you all!"

Anna's head swam as she tried to take in everything going on around her. The fact that this place was meant to be a palace had prepared her to see a cynosure, a place of opulence and beauty. However, the complex surrounding her was so grand, so almighty, and so beautiful that it defied simple description. Everywhere she looked there was a pattern of color, a magnificent design, a lush and healthy plant. It was so much that she could probably waste away entire days just wandering around a single section, appreciating every fine detail.

Yet, at the same time, something simply felt off. So easy would it be for the overwhelming splendour to quiet away any worries and doubts. However, something ate at Anna from the inside. That familiar icy gnawing of her bones, while distant and soft, still lingered in the back of her mind. Cold jaws nibbled at her knees and shook her spine as she met the dull, tired eyes of the servants picking the fruits. It was unsettling, just unsettling enough to give her enough clarity to ask the bigger questions.

This palace was fit to house a king, not a prince, so why was it only the capital of a small principality? The village had described that the palace was only recently revived, and sure enough Anna could still see the signs of disrepair and aging, many being patched over or actively worked on by currently deserted scaffolding and stoneworks. How had a palace abandoned so long ago sprung back to life with such wealth and prosperity to support the opulence here? These were the questions sitting firmly on Anna's mind as she dipped her head slightly, giving a wary look over her shoulder as they passed on from the orchard grounds.

The final ascent was made, and the final tier of the palace was reached. Here, the landscape was truly laid out to see. The fields, rainforest, swarms of bats, and the highlands in all direction stretched out towards the horizon, where the dim silhouettes of the Himalayas could starkly be seen in the light of the sunset.

The courtyard itself was not particularly focused on plant life, although two long columns of flower bushes lined the central path through the huge, paved yard. Instead, the place was kept clear, with only a central fountain gubbling with water. Anna could imagine huge, outdoor parties and events happening on the broad stones of the courtyard, and passively wondered how good the view of the stars might be.

Dead ahead, the palace central was located. A looming tower was the focal point of the complex, its surface detailed beautifully with blossoming flower bushes hanging around every window and terrace. The top of the tower was a multicolored mosaic, the blue, red, and yellow tiles at the top slightly faded and cracked, telling of their age. At the very top, Anna could see a row of windows looking out at the landscape around them, and she imagined how cool it might be to fly up and alight at the very top of the tower when she got use of her wings back.

The palace complex surrounding the tower was a series of buildings, up to four storeys high but never lower than two. The rooftops were made out of red, weathered shingles. Construction work partially covered some of the roofing, where shingles were being removed and replaced with fresh, brighter shades of the same material.

Chattar Lal was met by some servants at the front doors of the complex, where he talked to them in seemingly-fluent Hindi. He turned around, flashing his affable smile, "These will take you to your rooms to clean up. You can discuss anything business-related with me and Captain Blumburtt at the dinner in two hours, if you think you can make it after your hard trip."

Indiana Jones opened his mouth, but was cut off as Willie stepped out in front of him, "Oh, I'd be absolutely honored, Mr. Lal."

Chattar Lal snapped his fingers as he seemed to remember something, "Oh, and do you all have appropriate changes of clothes? No offense intended, but I can see especially you, Miss Scott, might be in need of a change."

"Oh, no offense at all," Willie's smile widened with delight, "These rags aren't even my clothes."

"Rags?" Indiana muttered, giving Willie an insulted look.

"Then I will have someone sent to measure you, and give you something from our wardrobe. We have European style dresses, so don't worry a bit," Chattar Lal winked, before turning towards the servants and signalling to them. With that, he walked up the stairs and out of sight.

A similar, dead look perforated Anna's skull as the four servants made to assist them made eye contact with her, before one of them gestured towards Indiana's bags, currently being held by Short Round, "Your bags, if you please sir," they said in accented English.

Indiana hummed pleasantly as he looked towards Short Round, who stowed his half-eaten apple in his mouth as he shrugged of the straps of the bags and handed them over. The servant looked to Anna's backpack next, and she shook her head, "I'm good carrying mine."

"As you wish," the servant said, before turning and walking up to the main entrance.

Indiana chuckled, "Will be good to have a nice bath after the past week."

Indeed, looking down at herself Anna realized that she was very worse for wear on the hygiene department, matching the states of everyone else in her group. Mud from the jungle trek acquired since the river bath the previous day clung to her hide and soaked through her shirt and pants. Various small tears in the fabric from thorns and branches were visible and scraped, raw skin peeked through on various locations behind the tears and on her face. Her mane was stringy, dry, and also matted with dirt. Her teeth felt gross after a week without a proper clean-up at a bathroom, and her hooves were filthy and in need of proper maintenance. While her own nose tuned out her own body odor, she could no doubt guess that all the sweating she'd done from the humidity and tropical heat had made her quite rank. The mosquitoes and random bugs in the forest had also shown her no mercy, and her hide itched with stings and bites, begging to be soothed by soaps and warm water.

Indiana, on his part, was beginning to grow scraggly. He hadn't taken the time to shave during the past hectic week of searching for Nurhachi and then escaping Shanghai by the skin of their teeth. His hair was also growing a bit long after a month without maintenance, but overall he was by far the best off out of all of them. Short Round was the best after him, the young boy having never looked one hundred percent in shape, most likely due to his upbringing. He was just as muddied and malodorous as the rest though.

Willie Scott by far was the worst off, with a previously extremely delicate hairstyle completely let down to roll onto her shoulders and drape over her face. Her long, painted nails were cracked and torn, and the polish itself was staring to chip and peel off. The remains of Indiana's dress coat sat around her, their oversized nature compared to her smaller frame making them hang and catch on everything. Not only that, but the color white clashed very starkly with mud brown. Any remains of makeup had been destroyed by her dunk in the river, replaced by dried sweat and the redness of sunburn.

Willie pushed past Indiana and up the stairs with a mixture of eagerness and frustration as she grouched, "You think you need a bath, bushman!? You look like the type of guy from the movies who could be stranded on a desert island for twenty years and still come out looking like you had a full workover the day before!"

"Was that a compliment or an insult?" Indiana asked, glancing between Anna and Short Round. Anna, for her part, just shrugged.

They were lead through the palace halls. Anna noticed some scaffolding and temporary wooden beams holding up construction work on the ceilings and walls, confirming her observation that the building's age was still being remediated. Rich, painted murals on walls and mosaics along the floors and walls depicted scenes of history and wonder. Most of them were religious in nature, ones which Anna couldn't decipher without her father's level of education. However, a few of the more modern and obviously freshly-installed ones were decipherable to her.

There was a scene they passed, still being worked on judging by a nearby set of scaffolding and abandoned tools. Dark men in red coats holding guns were facing a single man in a similar coat with white skin. One of the dark-skinned uniformed men was holding his gun out, with a small cartridge in his other hand. There seemed there was more to the mosaic, only that the space above the soldiers was blank and still being added to.

The only other depiction Anna recognized was one of Pankot Palace itself, and was actually fully complete. Anna recognized the Union Jack flying over the palace as soldiers in red uniforms stood on the walls and fired down towards other men without uniforms, who held torches and guns.

Finally, they turned down a hallway that ended in a dead end with a window. Four heavy double doors lined the sides of the hallways, which the servants opened as they spread out before them. A fresh scent wafted from inside, smelling of mint and incense. The sun shone through windows, and warmed real, four-poster beds within, laden with satin sheets and light bedspreads.

"Your suites, sirs and madams," the most senior servant said in that same somber, even tone, "Feel free to select your rooms for yourselves."

"Ladies pick first," Indiana chuckled, gesturing forward towards Willie and Anna.

Anna sidled over, nodding her head towards the door on the left the closest to the exit back into the main halls. Willie Scott strode over to the one across from Anna and ran fingers through her hair, "What lovely service!" she noted as she reached down to her feet to pull off the ragged dress shoes she'd been hiking in.

"I go across from you, Doctah Jones," Short Round said.

Indiana, without a word, simply nodded thankfully towards the servants before walking into the room adjacent to Anna's. Short Round walked into the room across, his pace picking up as he walked inside and jumped onto the bed.

Taking her own cue, Anna turned and walked into her own room. The servant standing by her door leaned in after her, "Madame," he intoned, "If you should need anything, pull the rope by your door. A servant will be there shortly. Are you in need of anything we are able to provide?"

Anna nodded, unlimbering her backpack to dig around for her dirty changes, "I don't have any clean clothes to wear to that dinner."

Taking out a bundle of putrid, sweat-soaked, and stained clothes, she held them out towards the servant. He took it without complaint, placing it under an arm and asking, "We will make sure it is done before dinner. Is there anything else?"

Anna shook her head, uttering a wary, "No, thank you," to them as she watched the servant nod stiffly and pull the doors closed for her.

The door clicking shut behind her, Anna surveyed her environment. The room was appropriately large for the amount of luxury the palace had presented so far. It had to be a good twenty square meters or so, the bathroom and balcony included. Most of the floor was tiled, with rich, heavy rugs to provide softness to the floor and variety to the cream-colored stone and tiling. The furniture matched in luxury. Deep, comfortable pillows topped the delicately carved frames of sofas and couches in a small sitting area off to the side, with a patterned rug and a coffee table to compliment it. A rare example of modern technology, the first of its kind since the plane crash, sat on a table near the bathroom door. A large radio set was set up and plugged into a wall. Anna passively wondered what kinds of radio signals she'd receive all the way out here, and turned the knob on the radio's interface out of curiosity. Scanning through several frequencies, she eventually found some soft, staticy music playing on some sort of radio station, and left it on as she continued walking.

A magnificent four-poster bed took the center stage of the room. It was layered with light, thin sheets perfect for the humid environment. Beyond it, a wide open balcony, brimming with flowers and greenery, looked out over the highlands and the setting sun. Above, a ceiling fan whirred slowly, although it felt mostly unnecessary, as the wind from the window outside was more than enough to cool the room.

Anna sighed, her senses soothed slightly by her gorgeous lodgings. Finally taking off her backpack and rolling her shoulders after a long day's hike of it weighing her down, she tossed the bag onto the bed as she walked over to the bathroom, beginning to unbutton her shirt.

The bathroom was luxurious, and its size took around a quarter of the room's expansive floorplan. A sink and bath took up most of the space, and to Anna's pleasant surprise a turn of the taps revealed operational plumbing. Opening cabinets under the sink, she saw various jars of what appeared to be perfumes and other products, bars of soap, shampoos, and a few freshly folded towels. The idea of a bath made the sweat and muck stuck to her body feel especially uncomfortable, and she acquiesced to the feeling as she ran the faucet and began to undo the laces on her boots. She took off her boots and cringed at the dishevelled nature of her hooves and legs.

She wished she could just fly and hover near the sink to wash off her hooves, but she had promised herself to not stress her wings until they stopped hurting, just in case she'd broken something. So, she simply waited by the tub until it was full, tested the temperature, and then stripped the rest of the way down. Taking off her belt, she realized her revolver was still attached to it, with her whip on the other side. Checking the chamber, she found out that she'd remembered to reload it at some point, and all six of its chambers were filled.

The images of the pilot dying at her hooves flashed in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut as she hurriedly hung the belt up on a nearby wall hook. Taking a few bars of soap, she placed it by the bath before making for her bag. Taking out her custom hygiene kit, she carried it in her mouth back to the bath as she finally climbed in.

Sighing, she enjoyed the comfortably warm water as she soaked, staring at the ceiling. Grime and muck floated to the surface of the bathwater, slowly dissolving off of the strands of her fur and mane. After a few minutes, she submerged below the water and shook her mane around before emerging. She soaped down, the uncomfortable feeling of her feathers being disrupted by the water and soap tickling her once again. Taking her specialized brush from her hygiene container, she made a point of stroking down most of her hide, pulling off the dead final remnants of her winter coat, loose strands of hair, and other debris caught in her coat and depositing them into the quickly murkifying water.

It was about half an hour later when Anna finally decided to finish her bath. Pulling the plug, she flopped out of the bath and towelled down. She soaked through both of her provided towels, her fur retaining more water weight than a human would. As she dried off, the sound of the bath's drain choking behind her made her ear twitch. Back at home, Indiana had installed extra wide piping after her fur had continually clogged the normal human-sized plumbing. It would seem even the luxurious bath was unable to keep up with the amount of detritus she had deposited.

Anna eyed the servant-calling bell outside by the door, before sighing and deciding she wasn't brave enough to seem like a nuisance. If she couldn't unclog it herself after dinner tonight, she'd work up the courage in the morning. Taking her preening brush, she adjusted her feathers back into place and removed dead feathers, the task made slightly more difficult by the twitching of her wing every time the comb tugged too hard and triggered her sore muscles. Then, after brushing her teeth and combing her hair, she moved to exit the bathroom.

Slinging on one of the less-wet towels just to cover up, she walked to the center of her bedroom. The belt, with her whip and gun still attached, was tossed lazily onto her bed. She was tempted to simply roll into bed, her eyes heavy and muscles sore from the walk, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to wake back up for the dinner.

"Shorty!? Where's my razor?" echoed from the hallway, eliciting a snort from Anna as she walked towards the balcony door, deciding to enjoy the view.

The softening rays of the now deep-orange sun peeked through the gaps of the railing, the lip of which was about the height of Anna's muzzle, causing her to crane her neck in order to see the view over it. Fortunately, there was a nearby sun chair to sit on that gave her enough elevation to relax and enjoy the view. Her fur felt plush and soft, and she smelt good after the bath. Sighing, she sat down on her haunches and relaxed, looking over the valleys below. Short Round was right, once she was airborne again, this was going to be a good place to fly and sightsee.

A swarm of bats orbited the spire overhead. Despite finally feeling comfortable again, icy teeth still subtly gnawed at her bones.

Author's Note

I initially planned to have a cut scene from Temple of Doom here, where Willie would get attacked by a snake while bathing. In the end it got cut since the chapter was already over the standard length and it also just wasn't that funny.

I also turned the opulence of Pankot Palace up to 11. This is mostly because, guess what, we'll be spending more time here than we do in the movie! One of the biggest pacing problems with Temple of Doom in my opinion is that after Mayapore and arriving in Pankot, there's no time to properly ramp up tension. The movie just dives straight into the action, traps, heart-extractions, etc.

With the luxury of infinite screentime on my side, I plan to give the mysteries of Pankot the time they deserve...

33: Guardian of Tradition, 1935

Indiana Jones, Anna Jones, Willie Scott, and Short Round grouped back up after their two hours of cleaning up, and were lead back through the palatial complex by the same servants who lead them to their rooms. Electric lighting did most of the heavy lifting in lighting up the palace, but the occasional candelabra and wall sconce introduced some traditional fire lighting into the environment. As they approached the center of the palace complex, the sounds of Indian music began to echo through the halls.

Anna Jones had to admit she looked fairly underdressed. She wore her usual (recently cleaned) beige shirt and pants, the ones that would match her father's outfit minus the leather jacket. Short Round was also in his usual outfit of a worn long sleeve shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a baseball cap. Indiana Jones was wearing what seemed to be a new outfit he acquired from their hosts. A smart looking grey coat with matching pants, a white undershirt, and a bowtie she recognized that was his own. He also wore his glasses, she guessed to try and look more like the scientific type than the rogue adventurer type.

Willie Scott was by far the most resplendent, and had been fixing herself up right until the servants gave them their final warning that they would be late for the dinner. She had fixed her hair, which was now back to its highly-maintained, golden fashion. Rather than it being all bunched up on top of her head like she'd had it back in Shanghai, it was now down on her shoulders. A gilded (or at least it looked gilded) headdress adorned the top of her hair, surrounded by thin lace that flowed down the sides of her head with her hair. She was clothed in a long, glittery gown.

Indiana Jones had mockingly described her as a "Princess". Anna had to agree.

"I couldn't imagine wearing something like that," Anna commented to Willie.

The woman just smiled sympathetically, "I think you'd look beautiful in one. But, well..."

"Can't expect the Maharaja to have clothes appropriate for a horse huh?" Anna guessed at the ending of her sentence.

A slight titter from Willie told her her guess was right, even if the older woman didn't want to say it, "Well you never know. I think the Maharaja is absolutely swimming in it."

"In what, lady?" Short Round asked, his eyes gleaming as his head tracked the beautifully smithed candelabras lining the halls.

"Money," Willie waggled her eyebrows, "Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to come here after all."

Anna raised an eyebrow, "I thought you wanted a husband who would do more than just put you on a shelf to look pretty. Who'd let you pursue your career?"

"Well~" Willie bobbed her head mockingly, "If the Maharaja wants to give a pretty American lady like me some sort of splendid gift before she leaves to go back to the U S of A so that she remembers him forevermore, I might not entirely be opposed to the idea. Might be a nice nest egg while I try and break back into Holywood."

"What you planning to break in to steal from Hollywood?" Short Round tilted his head.

Willie patted him once on top of his hat, "The audience's heart, sonny."

"Sounds like a lot of work to put in in just a week," Anna muttered.

Indiana gave a strange smile as he stared straight ahead, glancing once in Willie's direction. The woman, on the other hand just huffed, "Well, I'm not really going to be doing much else. Not particularly interested in bumbling around with your father looking at all the Mosesicks."

"Mosaics," Indiana corrected dryly.

"So you're just gonna spend the week drooling alllllll over the Maharaja then?" Anna snorted, shooting Willie a look.

Face falling slightly at the embarrassment, Willie reached up and pampered her hair, "A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Besides, your father ruined my normal method of income back in Shanghai. I don't think I'll even feel safe in America with someone like Lao loose."

"Oof," Indiana clutched his stomach in faux pain, "Oh, Willie, that hurts. I'm so sorry I saved your life and didn't leave you to die in that nightclub. Being rescued and given a free flight out of Shanghai must've really been a downer compared to being executed in a back alley as a witness."

Willie's frown turned sour as she shot Indiana a dirty look, "Excuse me! I think your daughter did more of the saving from the nightclub than you did, sir!"

"I had a plan!" Indiana argued back before Anna could open her mouth.

"Oh yeah? What plan was that?" Willie said as she lightly pushed Indiana in the shoulder.

Indiana, giving a glare in response to Willie's shove, responded slowly, "Well... it involved a gong... a sword... and a jump out of the window."

"That sounds like it would've just ended in a lot of broken bones," Anna snickered.

Indiana grumbled under his breath, before raising his voice and protesting, "Hey. I was poisoned. It was a last ditch plan! I make a lot of those up on the fly! I don't have the luxury of just being able to fly away from all my problems!"

"Well good thing I was there then," Anna grinned in faux pride.

Indiana's voice, however, was overly serious for what was meant to be a joke as he pointed a finger at her, "All you did was put yourself in harm's way. Do you even know what would've happened if Lao Che managed to capture you? You would've become livestock, an attraction for his mobster friends. You would've been bridled and gagged and rotted in a cage somewhere. Maybe let out to fly through hoops for his entertainment if you'd been a good little girl! You should've just run to the airport."

Anna's ear fell as she cringed back from her father's finger. The mood fell once again as Willie and Short Round looked, concerned, towards Indiana.

Of all people, the loyal Short Round was the first to speak up, "Doctah Jones... She just- She was just trying to help."

Indiana gave a glance towards the crestfallen Anna, who looked away to avoid his gaze as soon as he turned his head. Sighing and reaching up to adjust his glasses, he muttered, "Yeah. That's why I've not made a big deal about it yet."

The procession continued in silence for a while, until the Indiana music became loud enough that it was clear it was coming from the next room over. There the servants stopped and let them pass into a foyer, where several men and women, dressed in luxurious traditional Indian clothing lounged on couches and pillows, chatting amongst each other. A few men, some light-skinned some dark-skinned, wearing red uniforms and gold and silver epaulettes also mingled in the crowd, catching Anna's eye.

A particular figure eventually diverted their attention though, as Chattar Lal made his way through the crowd towards them, wearing a similar outfit to the one he greeted them at the gates in, "Good to see that you had the energy to make it, Doctor Jones," he reached out to shake Indiana's hands, before nodding to the rest of them, "And company," stepping back and clasping his hands behind his back, he continued, "The Maharaja has taken a special interest in you. He wishes you all to sit near the head of the table so he may talk to you. It is a place of honor, I'm sure you understand."

Willie beamed towards Indiana as she wiggled her shoulders slightly in excitement. Walking forward towards Chattar Lal she asked, "Mr. Lal? What do they call the Maharaja's wife?"

Chattar Lal blinked, before clearing his throat and reaffirming his warm smile, "T-The Maharaja has not yet found it fit to take a wife."

Willie looked over her shoulder, waggling her eyes at the group, "Maybe he just hasn't found the right kind of woman..."

Chattar Lal turned around to lead them forward towards the dining hall. Stopping near a certain man, he reached out his hand indicatively, "This is Captain Phillip Blumburtt..."

The man, an older white man with balding grey hair turned around at the mention of his name. He wore a madder red coat, and had two golden epaulettes adorning both his shoulders. Golden facings surrounding his collar and the front of his coat glistened slightly in the lighting of the room, and a quartet of medals were pinned to his left breast. The old man put on a smile as he faced the group, "Ah, this must be the famous Doctor Indiana Jones, and his entourage..." his eye caught on Anna, eliciting a sigh of exasperation as he blinked and chuckled, "...How curious!"

"Hi I'm Anna, I'm a sapient talking horse and I'm Indiana Jones's daughter. Please don't talk down to me," Anna deadpanned as she locked Captain Blumburtt's eyes.

Indiana Jones broke up the moment as he extended his hand towards the British officer, "Pleased to meet you Captain. What's your division?"

Blumburtt took his eyes off of Anna, shaking Indiana's hand, "Eleventh Poona Rifles, sir. We're here for a regular inspection tour of the region."

Chattar Lal clasped his hands behind his back again as he commented, "The British do find it so amusing to inspect us at their convenience!"

Reaching up and brushing a hand against his thin hair, Blumburtt smiled nervously, "I do hope our presence here hasn't been too inconvenient to you and His Majesty?"

Chattar Lal shook his head, keeping his affable smile steady as he said, "The British worry so about their Empire. Makes us all feel like well cared for children," clearing his throat, his voice took on a more business-like tone as he stepped forward, "Now, Doctor Jones and his entourage have had the unpleasant experience of experience a dreadful plane crash... now, er, where exactly did you say you crashed?"

Indiana cleared his throat, "The, uh, northern foothills of Mount Humol, sir. The plane didn't survive the accident, but fortunately we managed to bail out in a rubber raft," gesturing towards Anna, he added, "We wouldn't have survived the fall if it weren't for my daughter lending her ability to fly to slow down our descent."

"How fascinating..." Chattar Lal hummed, before waggling a finger towards Anna's wings, "Those wings actually work? I would have thought they were far too small."

Anna shrugged as Indiana laughed, "Well, that's what we thought too before she started zipping around through the air at around a year old."

Chattar Lal shared her father's laugh, before turning back towards Blumburtt, "Doctor Jones wishes to get back to Delhi and back to his studies in America. However with banditry and petty rebellion being how it is these days, I supposed it might be the safest and most convenient if he and his friends accompanied you when you returned to your headquarters at the end of this week?"

Blumburtt gave a warm smile, one that slightly reminded Anna of the smiles Uncle Marcus would give when he was about to give her a present from behind his back, "Of course. That would be no trouble at all, as long as you're not in a hurry."

Indiana grinned, "Oh I think I can surely suffer a week in a place like this in exchange for a safe ride home!"

Chattar Lal snapped his finger as he walked past them, "Then it's arranged! If you'll excuse me, sirs, madams, I must go and see that the dinner is ready!"

Blumburtt gave Lal a side-eye as he walked away, before turning back towards Indiana, "I heard you served, Doctor Jones? Received medals from the British, French, and eventually the Belgians?"

Indiana's eye twitched as he covered his mouth and cleared his throat. Eventually, he nodded, "I fought in the Great War as a volunteer in the Belgian Army, and eventually worked with the French. Somme... then a prisoner of war, got myself out and then Verdun."

Blumburtt sputtered slightly, "By God man. I stand humbled. All this doddering old fool," he slapped his own chest, "has done has tramped around India enforcing taxes and putting down rebellions."

"I would've preferred that kind of duty, Captain," Indiana Jones said soberly, "I'd give anything to not get on the boat to Ireland."

Blumburtt pursed his lips, "Still. You have defied the American stereotype, Doctor Jones. Left your safe shores to fight against the hun. Jolly good, sir."

"Yeah, that's very kind of you, sir," Indiana sighed half-heartedly, "Might not end up being worth anything. Not with maniacs like Hitler and his National Socialists in control. It's only a matter of time now until he defies Versailles and starts the whole shitshow over again."

Anna stepped in at that moment, "What's so wrong with the Nazis, dad? Aren't they fixing the economy and stuff?"

"They're segregating the Jews out of their society. They're talking world domination. Hitler's a dictator, pure and simple. A few economic reforms doesn't cover that kinda stuff up," Indiana murmured.

Anna frowned, "I mean, Dad, doesn't America try and segregate the Africans out of our society? And don't the British, like, control most of the world?"

Indiana shook his head, "You're technically right. But, there's still hope in America. People want change. People want people like Uncle Rich and I to be equal. I bet you'll see it happen in your lifetime, Anna. Hopefully mine. And Britain is a democracy now," he nodded towards Blumburtt, who just hummed in response, "There's movements to start freeing colonies, instead of making more of them. The people in control of Germany aren't trying to do any of that. They want more oppression, more land, less determination. Not more of it."

"And if we had more brave American soldiers and scholars like your father," Blumburtt added, "The world wouldn't have to fear people like that."

The conversation lulled as the chatter of the other guests and the live music filled Anna's ears. Her thoughts drifted to her Uncle. She had so sorely missed him since he departed back for Germany...

"Dad..." she whispered eventually, and a soft hum from the man confirmed to her that she had his attention without needing to look, "...When we get home, can we send a letter to Uncle Johan?"

"Maybe I can get us a trip to Germany," Indiana mumbled, "I'd like to see if I could get in touch with him myself. Try and get him out of the country before things... get worse."

Captain Blumburtt cleared his throat as he raised his bushy eyebrows, "Regardless, Doctor Jones! I am honestly quite enamoured with your character, sir! I hope we may be able to talk more during your stay here, it will be quite stimulating to share stories with a renaissance man like yourself!"

Indiana took in a breath, dropping his somber expression as he looked back up to the captain, "It would be my pleasure, Captain."

A bell rang as Chattar Lal shouted something in Hindi to the crowd, causing the chatter to die down at once. He seemingly repeated himself in English moments later, "And for the English speakers here, such as the representatives of the Army and Dr. Jones and his entourage: Will our esteemed guests please come to the table? The feast will begin shortly!"

The crowd coalesced towards the dining hall proper. Anna had expected a giant, vaulted ceiling. But instead, the ceiling was a lot lower than she expected (still much higher than a standard one, but still), and was adorned with paintings, sculptures, and mosaic. On the far end of the hall, the room lead directly out onto a balcony overlooking Pankot, with thin mesh nets to protect the hall from mosquitoes and insects.

As they approached Chattar Lal, standing near the head of the table, spoke to them in a hurried whisper, "You're here, in these front four seats. Doctor Jones here, I sit opposite you, Anna beside me, then Captain Blumburtt here, then Miss Scott and Mr. Round next to each other over there..." he said, gesticulating at the seats. Indeed, they were right up front, with Willie Scott being the farthest from the front sitting next to Short Round on Anna's side of the table.

She opened her mouth, wanting to ask if she could swap seats with Willie so that her friend could try and chat with the Maharaja, but Chattar Lal backed away before she could say anything, clasping his hands behind his back as he watched the other guests take their places.

There were no traditional seats, and the table was fairly low to the ground. Instead, there were these large, plush, cylindrical pillows that one could lean back on. Because of how Anna's joints worked, she could hardly lean back fully onto the pillow to gain its comfort, and instead she supposed she'd just have to sit on her haunches when it was time to be seated.

"Uhf, I'm starving," Willie sighed as she stood by her seat, "Looks like I won't be needing to go on that diet after all."

"Me too. And I smell something smell good from kitchen," Short Round peeked over his shoulder, looking back at the dark door that probably acted as the servant accessway.

"You smelled that something smelled good from the kitchen-" Anna corrected, but was cut off by a sudden shush from her father as Chattar Lal's voice cut through the atmosphere.

"His supreme highness...!" Chattar Lal shouted to the banquet hall, "..Guardian of Pankot tradition, the Maharaja of Pankot: Zalim Singh!"

Chattar Lal stepped aside as the doors behind him opened. Flanked by two servants, the Maharaja strode out onto the floor of the dining hall. His appearance, however, caused Anna to blink in surprise.

He was finely dressed, which was to be expected. His robes consisted of glamorous red, with jewels and gold streaking and coursing throughout the outfit. He wore a headdress, which was topped by some sort of feathered adornment and an arrangement of sparkling jewels. The unexpected part, however, was his height. Originally, Anna thought he must just be a lot shorter than she imagined, only being a few inches taller than her. However, as the Maharaja's eyes panned across the room, she realized: he was just a child!

The servants who had flanked him as he walked into the room took their places on either side of him as he sat down. The Maharaja nodded with the grace and etiquette that could only be expected of a member of royalty, and the sounds of the guests across the room sitting down met Anna's ears, prompting her to do the same.

With a flick of his hand, the Maharaja signalled to the musicians, who started up a new tune as the muttering of conversation filled the halls once again.

"That's the Maharaja?" Willie Scott sneered from her place, one row away from Anna.

Short Round's voice came next as he grabbed a napkin from the table, "Maybe he like... older women?"

Anna turned and gave Short Round an odd look, Willie giving him a similar, but slightly more disgusted version of her look. The scent of Chattar Lal's cologne filled her nostrils as the Prime Minister sat down beside her, the man sighing as he took his napkin and placed it on his lap.

"What a strange creature," a young voice said from Anna's right, and her ears drooped as she looked to the side towards the Maharaja, who was eyeing her up and down like he was at a store window, "Is your intention to sell her to me? Or is this a tribute?"

Anna's guts writhed as anger flared in her nostrils, and Indiana spluttered from the other side of the table like he'd been punched in the chest. He was, however, the first to speak up, "Your highness," Indiana began, catching the boy's attention, "She is neither a gift nor for sale. She is my daughter, not a slave."

Chattar Lal, fortunately, appeared to be on their side, "I believe Doctor Jones described her as a heretofore undiscovered form of intelligent life. She's people, Zalim, and one of our guests."

Anna's mood lifted slightly at the stranger's defense of her, and she offered a weak, "Thanks..."

"And she can talk, unless my ears deceive me," the Marahaja hummed, his face still as stoic and neutral as the moment he entered the room, "What is your name?"

"Anna Katie Jones," she grunted, "And yeah I can talk. And no it's not like a parrot."

"Do those wings work?" the Maharaja pressed, his unrelenting voice causing Anna to cringe away from him.

"Uh... yeah, they do. I hurt them in the crash though..." Anna mumbled, looking around for something to distract the conversation towards.

He adjusted his seating against his pillow and finally took his eyes off of her, "I am quite a fan of birds and horses. I must show you some on one of the days you are here."

"Okay..." Anna mumbled, glad the conversation seemed to be ending.

"What were the circumstances of that plane crash, Doctor Jones? I'm dreadfully curious," Chattar Lal changed the subject, leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of him.

Indiana nodded, looking suspiciously inside of the cup of wine that had been poured for him before he was seated, sticking a finger inside of it and swirling it around, "Er- right. We were booked on an rather seedy flight out of Shanghai. It was the only one that was going where we needed to be for the next few weeks. For some reason, while we were flying out over the Himalayas, the pilots upped and jumped out of the plane," he retrieved his finger, inspecting it carefully before raising the glass to his lips and taking a sip, "The next thing we knew, we were out of fuel and about to go down. If it weren't for Anna using her wings to slow us down after we bailed out, we'd all be dead, probably."

"A brave young girl indeed, then," Lal looked over to Anna, "How old are you, then?"

"Fifteen, we think," Anna mumbled.

"A brave young woman, then! Why 'we think'?" Chattar asked.

"When I recovered her from the Panama Rainforest, certain dental examinations by other members of the scientific community estimated she was less than a year old. That was back in 1920, so..." Indiana made a gesture with his hand as he put his cup back.

Anna's ear flicked as the sounds of footsteps behind her, along with the scent of cooked meat, drew her attention away from the table. Several men walked with a large platter, upon which there was a giant snake, dead and coiled around a pillar in the center of the platter. Anna frowned as her stomach rumbled, and her head panned to see if there were any other deliveries being made by the wait staff.

Indiana's breath caught in his throat as the meal was laid on the table, and the clatter of the dishes finally attracted his attention to the snake. Flinching his vision away from the meal, his breathing rate increased as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.

"Is there something wrong?" Chattar Lal asked, giving Indiana a side eye as he seemingly eagerly awaited the food.

Indiana swallowed hard, "I have Ophidiophobia."

"Ah! Snake surprise!" someone said from down the table.

Willie Scott's voice attracted Anna's attention back towards the snake as she saw a servant drawing a carving knife and leaning over the snake. Plunging the knife into the distended middle section of the snake, they began to slice as steam was released from the wound. Anna's stomach, already not a fan of seeing and smelling meat products, did a backflip as a flap of snake hide was pulled back around the incision, and something began to writhe from within. Soon enough, tiny bodies squirmed inside of the body of the snake as they wriggled their way out of their mother's corpse, flopping onto the table as guests grabbed and picked them off one by one with forks.

Short Round turned his head towards Anna, the shocked look on his face reminding her to close her own gaping mouth. Willie Scott looked like she was going to pass out as she held a hand clasped to her mouth.

Indiana swallowed as he brought a shaking hand up to his forehead to wipe his sweat, looking towards Chattar Lal with a pleading eye, "U-Uh. Sir? I-If I may enquire about your menu..."

Chattar Lal's smile faded slightly, "Juvenile snake meat is a traditional food in Pankot, Doctor Jones."

Indiana stuttered a bit as one of the snake babies escaped the banquet further up the table, crawling its way over towards them, only barely fended off by Captain Blumburtt as he pushed it away with the edge of his fork. Eventually, Indiana smiled and tried his best to sound polite, "W-Well, you see sir, Anna is an o-obligate herbivore. A-And after years of preparing plant-based meals in our household, I-I've become somewhat of a vegetarian myself. I assume there's something plant based that we could both have?"

Chattar Lal seemed to sigh in disappointment, before quickly reaffirming his pleasant persona as he stood up, "I suppose I can have the palace staff throw something together. Excuse me for a moment, Doctor Jones, Your Highness," he bowed towards the Maharaja, who simply waved him off with a bored hand. The man stalked towards the exit.

Keeping a wary, shaky eye towards the snakes, Indiana Jones shifted a few inches to the left before looking towards Captain Blumburtt, "Captain... I uh, I don't suppose you've heard about something called the Thugee, have you?"

Blumburtt finally got the infant snake on the end of his fork, flinging it away from him back towards the platter it came from as Indiana flinched. The captain turned back around and nodded, "How could I forget? Thugee was an obscenity. They worshipped a different interpretation of a Hindu goddess, by the name of Kali."

Indiana Jones nodded, "If I'm right, Captain, Kali is generally benign in mainstream Hinduism?"

"Venerated by the Hindus, not just benign. Of course, by the way the Thugee worshipped her with human sacrifices, the Kali-Ma of the Thugee is basically an entirely different figure," Blumburtt huffed in disgust as he picked up his wine cup, taking a sip as he hummed thoughtfully.

Indiana Jones relaxed slightly as many of the slithering snakes by the meal platter were killed by the guests and as more food was carried in by the servers, though Willie Scott seemed as stiff as a statue as she held her hands to her mouth like her life depended on it, and her gut occasionally flexed against itself.

Anna, meanwhile, sniffed at the wine and scrunched her nose as the alcohol stung at her nose. She'd never taken a liking to the stuff, despite trying it once with some friends. Her father had put it up to her more robust innards giving none of the upsides of the relatively weak human alcohol, and that it was 'a bad thing to get into anyway'. Looking up from her cup, she asked, "So... if Kali is so different from the one from Hinduism... why is their version named that at all?"

Indiana Jones hummed thoughtfully as he took another sip, "Well, from what I can remember from my studies on this region, Thugee isn't necessarily an Indian invention. It originates from Pankot itself..."

"Which is why it was such a hotspot for it back in the early nineteenth century," Blumburtt added.

"And Pankot was its own principality for the longest time. Up until the East India Company controlled the subcontinent, pretty much," Indiana nodded towards Blumburtt, "The Thugee religion here might've had some similar roots as Hinduism, but due to the political divide and cultural differences between such frictional borders..."

"The Kali of the Thugee might just be an invention of spite, if anything," Blumburtt finished, leaning back on his pillow as he looked towards Indiana again, "I've studied the Thugee extensively, due to my deployment in Pankot Province."

Indiana mirrored the Captain's posture, "Then you might be the one to help me sate my curiosity, Captain. That's about where my academic knowledge on the subject ends."

The click of Chattar Lal's dresshoes came up from behind Anna as he sat back down in his place, attracting the eyes of the two men as the Prime Minister spoke, "I've spoken - well, the more accurate term may be 'wrestled' - with the cook. They'll throw together some salads and fruits for the two Joneses."

"Thanks," Anna smiled, mirrored by a similar appreciation from her father.

Several servers had followed Chattar Lal out from the kitchen, carrying more platters. Willie and Short Round's heads turned hopefully towards the new additions to the table, but as Anna could see their hopes were soon to be crushed. On the platters were several black, horned beetles. Their spindly legs were suspended in the air as they laid on their backs, their shells cracked and soft from being cooked. The servers walked with the platters to each seat at the table, allowing guests to pick off their own share. A man across from Anna peeled back the underbelly of one of the beetles, before consuming the innards with a most horrendous slurping sound.

"Shorty... give me your hat.." Willie said, throat choking around something.

"Why...?" Short Round began to ask, taking off his hat.

"Cause I'm gonna puke in it!" Willie grabbed for the hat, only for Short Round to yank it quickly away from her and place it back firmly on her head. She instead had to settle for retching into her vice-gripped hand over her mouth. Wisely, the servers avoided both of them when passing out the insectoid delicacies.

Indiana Jones leaned forward once again, making eye contact with Lal, "I was just discussing with Captain Blumburtt about a part of Pankot's culture and history that rather interests me, Mr. Lal," Indiana intoned carefully.

Chattar Lal peeled back the belly of a beetle delicately, licking the finger with which he did so as he answered, "Oh?"

"Yes, uh- the Thugee Cult, Mr. Lal," Indiana said, adjusting his seat as a familiar look sparked in his eye, "Specifically how fascinating the divorcement between the figures of Kali in Hinduism and the portrayal of a goddess by the same name and shape in the Thugee religion... despite how close the Mughal Empire and Pankot were before the British Raj."

Chattar Lal paused for a second, his beetle held in front of him as he seemed to examine Indiana carefully. Eventually, he responded, his voice in its usual friendly tone, "Of course. Though I must warn you, the Thugee are a... less than stellar mark on this region's history. I would compare it to an event such as slavery in the United States, and the civil war fought to remove it."

"Of course," Indiana surrendered the point, "But I'm purely interested in it from an academic standpoint, Mr. Lal. It's not very well known about in the archaeological community, and a well-researched paper on it would be very popular."

"Well, I'm not entirely sure I can answer your question for you, Doctor Jones," Chattar Lal said, taking a moment to suck out the boiled innards of the insect. Taking a moment to smack his lips, he discarded the empty husk onto his plate as he continued, "Many of the records of the Thugee cult were burned when their temples were destroyed by the soldiers of the East India Company. They took less kindly to historical preservation and more towards destroying what they believed were obscenities."

"You think the Thugee wasn't an obscenity? Wasn't it a black mark on your history?" Indiana Jones quirked an eyebrow as he probed the question.

Chattar Lal kept his cool, only pausing for a second before taking it in stride, "Don't get me wrong, Doctor Jones. I believe it was a good thing that the British purged its influence, slavery, and human sacrifice from Pankot. However, with it came a... lot of reforms," a sad look crossed his eyes, "I appreciate English culture as much as the next man, but there is always something to be lost when one power falls and another one takes its place, is there not?"

"Are you a radical, Mr. Lal? Like that maniac, Ghandi?" Blumburtt questioned, chuckling a bit in the back of his throat as he took another sip of his wine.

"Far be it!" Chattar Lal said with a snap of his finger, "But I don't have to be a radical to appreciate elements of tradition and culture, Captain. It is our duty and our contract with the Crown to preserve such things as this in Pankot, no?"

"True enough," Blumburtt acquiesced, running a finger through his collar.

A lull came in the conversation as a pair of servers came from behind Anna. This time, rather than some sort of stomach-turning horror, they brought plates of fruit, vegetables, and two bowls of what appeared to be tomato soup. They distributed the food evenly between Anna and Indiana, leaving the platter of fruit in the center.

"I assume fruits are edible to your daughter, Doctor Jones?" Chattar Lal enquired as the servers stalked off.

"She has been found to be able to eat most human food that doesn't contain meat, yeah," Indiana Jones smiled thankfully as he took a spoon and tasted his soup carefully.

Anna felt hairs prickle up on the back of her neck, and she turned to see the haunting, fearful, and lustful eyes of Willie Scott locked onto her food. After a moment, the woman's eyes turned towards Anna, giving forth a silent plea for sustenance. Her and Indiana's food was too far for her to reach, not without seeming rude and leaning all the way out over the table. Short Round's own hand came over to steal a fistful of greens from Anna's plate as he crunched hungrily down on it.

With a sympathetic frown, Anna leaned over and plucked a banana from a bunch given to her and leaned behind Short Round to give it towards Willie. She took it and peeled it, swallowing a surprising amount of the banana as she chewed it faster than a wood mulcher.

"Is the food not to your liking, Miss Scott?" Chattar Lal asked disappointedly towards Willie.

Willie swallowed her mouthful of banana, before shaking her head, "I uh, I had bugs for lunch."

Anna herself hungrily slurped down her soup as Short Round stole most of her greens. For once, Anna hoped her more animalistic appearance would excuse her bad manners as she sated her own starvation. Fortunately for the both of them, Indiana had the grace to eat slowly.

Putting down his spoon, Indiana hummed thoughtfully before saying, "So, Mr. Lal. We went to a village shortly after we crashed, in order to try and get directions to civilization. I must admit, certain rumors about a Thugee resurgence in the area were what made me curious as to the cult's history."

"You heard these rumors from... villagers?" Chattar Lal chuckled, as if in disbelief, "What village, Doctor Jones?"

"I never got the name," Indiana lied, "I couldn't quite get through to them. My Hindi is not very good. My daughter did most of the navigating for us."

"Right..." Chattar Lal said as he pulled back the belly on another beetle and shook his head, "They are just village rumors, Doctor Jones. Nothing more. Thugee is good and dead. Why revive bad memories?"

Indiana Jones pursed his lips for a moment, humming as he took another sip of his soup, "Is it at least true what they told me, that the ruins of the old shrines and temple that supported the heart of the cult in Pankot are still standing? If so I'd love to try and take a look."

Even though the Prime Minister opened his mouth, it was in fact the Maharaja who took initiative answering. His regal voice almost seemed to flow across the entire table as the chatter stopped, and all eyes turned towards him, "I would rather you not, Doctor Jones. I am afraid you are pressing a sore subject far too much for our comfort. I was told about the Thugee when I was much younger, and I thought they were just bedtime stories meant to frighten children. I was wrong. It is part of my duty to ensure that nothing like that ever happens again in my principality."

Anna looked towards her father, who looked back at her with a disappointed look in his eyes. His attempt at a free lunch appeared to be thoroughly defeated.

"Dessert!" someone from down the table said, and Anna's ears perked as servers once again moved in on the table.

"What's dessert?" Willie asked hesitantly, finally looking away from Anna's fruit plate back towards the mainstream platters around her.

The servers, each with two bowls, came in between the guests. Placing the bowls everywhere except the obligate herbivore and the "vegetarian", Anna finally got to see what was for dessert by looking at Short Round's serving.

"Chilled monkey brains," a finely dressed man across from Willie said as he plucked the scalp off of the severed monkey head that lay inside of his bowl. With a spoon, he scooped a piece of wobbling grey matter out of the bowl like it was ice cream, putting it in his mouth with an icy crunch that made Anna's ear twitch.

"Oh god..." Willie breathed, looking over to Anna again. Fortunately, the young mare had predicted her next question, as another banana went her way. As the servers went to leave the table, Willie managed to get one of their attention with a shaky grasp of an arm. Trying her best to both suppress her gut and sound polite, she asked, "S-Sir... C-Can I have some soup... l-like they're having?"

"Me too!" Short Round added.

The server simply nodded before walking away.

"What is it exactly that you study, Doctor Jones?" Chattar Lal asked, discarding the husk of his second beetle.

Indiana chuckled slightly, "I've been practically everywhere on expeditions, but in college my main path of study was Near East archaeology."

"Interesting. I also know you've written some books?" Lal asked, "I read one of them. In it you talked about the geology of the... hollow earth?" a smile spread across the man's face, and his chest strained as if holding back a laugh.

Indiana swallowed before running a hand through his hair, "The pseudo-scientific nature of that publication was... massively overstated. And it was never disproven, since nobody ever followed up that expedition to confirm or deny it."

"Isn't the burden of proof meant to fall upon you, Doctor Jones?" Lal asked, not at all discouraged.

Indiana set his jaw, fixing Lal with a glare, "If I published a journal in the early 20s about raising a small, flying horse, nobody would believe me. Yet it would clearly have been true," he gestured towards Anna.

"Sure, but your reputation clearly pegs you as a great fan of the occult, the conspiracy, and the fantasy. You claim you and government agents assassinated the ghost of Vlad the Impaler. Then you found dinosaur eggs and the Philosopher's Stone. Both of which were conveniently lost before you could bring them back to a museum for study? A broken clock may be right twice a day," Lal jerked a thumb towards Anna indicatively, "...But it's wrong more times than it's right. And you say you survived a plane crash, navigated all the way here without being familiar with the region and without a guide, and now are asking all these questions about the occult in Pankot? When we've been nothing but good hosts to you?"

Anna looked towards her father nervously, and he returned her look before placing his hands together and bowing his head slightly, "If I have done anything to offend you, I apologize deeply."

Chattar Lal's shoulders relaxed as he pulled himself back from his leaned-forward position, "I apologize as well," he said, raising his eyebrows, "That was unbecoming of me. I hope it won't sour our time together. But I hope now you understand that the Thugee is simply something not to be mentioned freely."

"Right..." Indiana mumbled, raising his bowl and finishing the last dregs of the soup at the bottom, sparing a glance towards Captain Blumburtt, who shared a raised-eyebrow look back towards him.

A server approached Willie from behind as the banquet began to wind down. Holding a generously-sized soup pot, they placed it down in front of the woman as she smiled and grasped her spoon, Short Round doing the same. However, as the pot lid was removed, Willie's smile disappeared and her eyes rolled into the back of her skull as she passed out, a dull thunk sounding as she rolled back over the pillow and whacked her head on the floor.

Anna's eyes widened as she shot to her hooves. Her mouth fell open into a gape as something bubbled to the top of the soup, and a steamed eyeball rolled over in the liquid to stare back at her.

Willie Scott hissed as Indiana Jones placed a bunch of ice cubes wrapped in a cloth against the back of her head, "Ohh, that just makes it hurt more!"

"It'll get better the faster you quit complaining," Indiana grumbled as they walked from the banquet halls back towards their rooms, "Leave it on your pillow and sleep on it; it should help your head."

"Not much luck getting access to the ruins?" Anna asked, walking beside her father. She squeezed her eyes shut as she yawned, the long day and the many days of poor sleep haunting her. She had barely managed to stay awake to the end of the banquet, and the idea of a real, soft bed lured her in uncontrollably.

Indiana let go of the cold press as Willie replaced his hands on the back of her own head, "I'll tell you more once we're back in the room," he muttered, giving a shifty look towards the palace staff that passed them in the halls.

"I can tell you my luck was terrible, though!" Willie groaned, "First the Maharaja being, like, seven, and then the so-called 'food'!"

"I think he was more like thirteen, actually," Indiana remarked as they turned a corner, "Somewhere in his early teens."

"Still means it's all a bust!" Willie groaned as she stalked immediately for her door, throwing it open with her free hand. Turning around, she glared at Indiana, "And it's all because of you!"

The door slammed, causing Indiana to flinch. Turning around with an almost satisfied smile, he past Anna and stood by his suite door, "That banquet had things that no devout Hindu would ever touch, let alone eat. I think Mr. Lal and the Maharaja have something to hide, and if my luck is the same as it always is, they'll be willing to go to great lengths to protect it."

"I don't doubt it," Anna mumbled, "Dad. I'm feeling that same way I did when I touched the shrine, just a lot more muted here."

Indiana gave Anna a queer look, "It's probably just your nerves, but..." a pause, as he seemed to surrender the point, "It'll be better to be a bit paranoid in this place. You still have your gun?"

"Yeah," Anna nodded.

"Is it loaded?" He pressed, putting his hands on his hips.

Anna remembered checking it herself before the dinner, "Mhm."

"Keep it under your pillow," Indiana intoned, opening the door to his suite, "If anyone comes into your room without knocking first, don't be afraid to use it," he looked to Short Round, "Shorty, you'd better sleep in my room just to be safe. The couch is plenty big and comfortable enough, grab some sheets from your room."

"What about Willie?" Anna asked.

Indiana let out a chortle, "As much as I'd like her to sleep in my room, she needs her privacy."

Anna's forehead knitted as Indiana entered his room, looking up, she shouted,"Hey! What does that mean?" as the door shut in her face.

Sighing, she looked over to Short Round, who just shrugged at her before going across to his room, assumedly to collect his sheets like he was told. Her eyes were heavy, and her brain ached slightly from its overuse. After the several previous night's exceedingly poor sleeps, the prospect of a comfortable, insect and rodent-free sleeping place was extremely attractive. Walking into her own room, she locked the door behind her and looked towards her bed. She almost considered forgoing properly unholstering and tucking her gun away. Still, with a sigh, she grabbed her belt from the center of the mattress, unlimbered the revolver from its holster, and tossed the rest onto her bedside table.

Throwing the gun on top of the mattress with a grunt, she awkwardly clambered over the high, extremely soft mattress before finally pulling herself up on top. Sighing, she shoved the gun underneath her pillow, reached over and pulled the string on her bedside lamp, and turned over to rest.

She didn't even manage to pull the sheets over herself before she was asleep.

Author's Note

This chapter is one of the oldest from my old drafts. This was from back when Anna had the middle name 'Klara', and she was a year older. Tell me if there's any weirdness that got missed during editing... or just feel free to tell me what you thought in general! I live for comments C: