Kamchatka Wilderness
Soviet Union
1960
Shorty and Indy lay in the tundra grass, staring at the half ash sodden sky streaked with pockets of a frigid endless vast blue.
"I'm still mad the bear got my fish," Shorty announced.
Indy looked over at Shorty. "I was once told by one of my rivals, 'Indiana Jones - what was once yours is now mine.'"
"I'm feelin' that today, Dad." Shorty rolled to his feet and offered Indy his hand.
Indy grabbed it and wearily rolled from the ground. "Thanks, Shorty. The miles are starting to show."
They hiked up to the camp site. Lizavet had the fish stretched across the fire on some hot stones and was sitting quietly, her hands on the bone flute playing it quietly in a mimic of a bird song.
She blinked up at them and put the flute away. "I am sorry."
"Why?" Indy asked. "It's a lovely calming sound."
Emily looked up. "She made the flute herself, Dad. It looks just like the ancient ones we've found in some of the shaman burials."
Lizavet smiled. "It seems you know more about my ancestors than I do."
Shorty swallowed. "Lizavet, can I talk with you?"
"Of course." She blinked as he extended his hand to her. "Oh...? Are we going somewhere? Only the two of us?"
"Yes... I was hoping we could... catch up? And I could say how I didn't like how things turned out? And maybe how we could make them better?"
Lizavet stood. "Of course." She looked at Emily. "Do not forget, or delay what we spoke of."
"Right." Emily frowned.
Indy watched his two adopted kids wander away, a grin on his face. He turned back and noticed Emily sitting curled against her wounds, her severed braid across her knee.
"You... you got it back?" Indy asked stunned.
"Yeah. Lizavet said I need to burn it." Emily swallowed. "I... just... its a part of me, Dad. I haven't trimmed my hair in ages. Not like this... never this short. This braid has been with me since I was twelve. And I'm having a bit of an issue with that."
Indy checked on the fish with his knife. "What part of it is bothering you, Em?"
She paused. "I stole it back from the apkallu... and all the legends and customs about women's hair being... sacred, a part of her femininity, with links to her fertility..." Emily looked up. "It proposed marriage, Dad."