My wife and kids flew out of Mongolia, for good, over Russia last week. It's a long flight, over nothing but snow-covered mountains that go on forever.
Once, over a thousand years ago, one of their ancestors left Mongolia on the back of a horse. You can see his imprint on their faces even today. Quite a few times in restaurants my wife would be handed a menu in Mongolian, while I'd get one in English. No wonder I was attracted to her.
Judging from the behavior of my children, he was probably a stubborn, violent man, and fond of his weapons.