You walk along the dim airstrip, the hum of distant engines echoing in the cloudy sky. Joey’s plane sits off to the side, its golden frame glinting faintly in the fading light. At first, you think it’s empty—quiet and still. But then, faintly, you hear it.

A soft, choked sound.

Following the noise, you circle around to the far side of the plane. There, half-hidden behind the wheel, you finally see him. Joey’s goggles are pushed up on his forehead, his little paws pressed against his eyes as his body trembles. The ever-cheerful grin he usually wears is nowhere to be seen—just tears sliding down his cheeks, falling quietly onto the concrete beneath him.