the keeper's cottage · day 890 · afternoon

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

Kevin debrides Jenny's ankle while she sits at the kitchen table. The high humidity is oppressive, making the wound tacky and the sea beet poultice difficult to apply. Jenny winces through the pain as the scalpel clears the infected tissue, while outside, the sky darkens further and the air pressure continues to drop.

🔧 Kevin07:38

Kevin — walk up the porch steps and push through the cottage door.

💭 peek at the thought

Back at the cottage. The walk from the dock felt longer than it used to. My hands are still cold from the water, salt drying in the lines of my palms. Need to check on Jenny's ankle — last poultice was hours ago. And the radio check at 1200. Generator needs running to charge the battery. Barometer's falling faster than I like.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny07:39

You're back.

Lean back against the kitchen table, favoring the swollen ankle and clutching the edge of the wood.

💭 peek at the thought

He's back. I can hear the grit of the dock still on his boots. I wonder if he's going to tell me the bolts are holding or if he's just going to stare at my leg.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin07:40

Yeah. Dock held. Bolts are tight. Sistered piling took the load.

Set the crowbar down by the door. Cross to the table, press the back of my hand to her forehead.

💭 peek at the thought

She looks worse than this morning. Skin's grey under the tan. Fever's climbing.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny07:40

I'm not that hot.

Pull away slightly and look down at the wrapped ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

He's checking for a fever. He doesn't have to do that; he can see I'm miserable. The touch is too soft for how loud the silence has been between us.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin07:42

You're hot. When did you last take the doxycycline?

Reach for the kettle on the stove. Tip it — weight's good, still warm. Pour two mugs, push one across the table toward her.

💭 peek at the thought

She's burning. Pulse jumping at her wrist. Stubborn as ever.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny07:42

A while ago. I think.

Wrap fingers around the warm tin mug, letting the heat seep into my palms.

💭 peek at the thought

I can't remember if it was four hours or six. The time just blurs when the pain is pulsing. I don't want to admit I'm losing track.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin07:44

Take it. Two left after today.

Pull the blister pack from the shelf, pop a tablet through the foil, slide it across the table with the mug.

💭 peek at the thought

"A while ago" means she forgot. Or didn't want to bother me. The blister pack's on the shelf — two doses left. She needs the next one now.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny07:44

Thanks.

Pick up the tablet and swallow it with a gulp of water from the mug.

💭 peek at the thought

Only two left. That's a terrifying number when the boat is still days away and the sky is turning the color of a bruise.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin07:46

Ankle next. Then generator.

Fetch the basin, saline bottle, clean gauze, scalpel. Set them on the table. Pull up the stool.

💭 peek at the thought

Good. That's one thing done. Ankle needs re-debriding and fresh poultice. Sea beet's in the cloth by the sink. Honey jar's half-full. Mint's drying on the shelf. Generator needs firing for the 1200 radio check — battery won't hold another cycle without charge. Barometer's at 980 and dropping. Storm's building.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny07:46

Just be careful with the scalpel.

Carefully lift the leg and rest the ankle on the edge of the table.

💭 peek at the thought

He's going to be too clinical about it. I can see the way he's lined up the tools—like he's fixing a piece of the dock rather than a person.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin07:48

Always am.

Unwrap the gauze slow. Peel it back from the wound.

💭 peek at the thought

She trusts me with this. After everything — forty minutes in Biscay, the engine room fire on the *Kestrel*, the storm that took the lean-to — this is the only time her hands don't shake.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny07:48

Jenny — grit teeth and grip the edge of the table until my knuckles turn white.

💭 peek at the thought

I can smell the infection before I even see it. That sweet, cloying scent of rot. I hope he doesn't make a face; I can't handle the pity right now.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.