It's morning when the seven leave the Spindrift empty. Chipper barks, sounding lonely, painful to human ears.

It doesn't take long to reach the spot. When they do shovels come out; the hole is dug.

It's time.

They don't want to go one by one, but they do, setting a three minute limit so they'll be gone before giants detect them.

One hundred eighty seconds isn't long enough for farewells, but they make do. Even Chipper has his turn; he licks the corpse's cheek. Everyone smiles, teary-eyed.

They're all family here.

Burying and leaving, there isn't a dry eye present.