"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.