the keeper's cottage · day 346 · afternoon

Evening meal and tide watch

Kevin and Jenny meet as the sun begins to dip, the tide now fully against the shore.

The tide is high, pressing against the island's edge. Inside the cottage, Kevin and Jenny sit at the kitchen table, the smell of rubbery limpets lingering between them. The red streaks on Jenny's ankle are prominent in the afternoon light, and the shutter drips rhythmically from the steady wind.

🌿 Jenny04:37

The limpets are done. Come and eat before they get cold.

Lean heavily against the kitchen table, glancing down at the red streaks on my calf.

💭 peek at the thought

My leg feels like it's radiating heat. I need to eat something or I'm going to crash.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin04:37

Coming.

walk to the kitchen table and pull out the stool opposite her, sitting heavily and reaching for the pot of limpets

💭 peek at the thought

She's trying to make it normal. The limpets, the table, the evening. But she's leaning hard on that table and her calf looks angry in the dying light. The antibiotics are gone. The boat is nine days out if it comes at all. I need to look at that wound again before dark.

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

🌿 Jenny04:39

They're a bit rubbery. Sorry.

Push the pot toward him and slowly slide into the opposite chair, trying not to jar my ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

He looks exhausted. We both are. I wonder if he can see the streaks from where he's sitting.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin04:39

They're fine. Eat yours.

pick up a limpet with the small fork, pull the meat free, and eat it in two bites, watching her face for the pain she's hiding

💭 peek at the thought

Rubbery limpets. She's apologizing for supper while her leg's turning septic. The fever's still in her — saw it in her eyes at noon. Nine days to the boat. Maybe less if the wind holds. I'll eat fast and check the dressing while there's light left.

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

🌿 Jenny04:41

I'm fine. Just... hungry.

Take a slow, deliberate bite of a limpet, focusing on the chew and the salt, keeping my expression neutral.

💭 peek at the thought

He's doing that thing. Searching for the crack in the mask. I can't let him see me shaking.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin04:41

When'd you last take water?

reach across the table and press the back of my fingers to her forehead, quick and light

💭 peek at the thought

She's a terrible liar. Always has been. The sweat at her hairline, the way her knuckles go white on the fork — that's not hunger. Nine days. The blister pack's empty. I've got the cold pack warming by the stove and nothing else to bring a fever down but seawater and time. Eat now. Look after.

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

🌿 Jenny04:43

An hour ago. I'm just warm from the stove.

Pull my hand back slightly and reach for the canteen on the table, taking a small, cautious sip.

💭 peek at the thought

He's too fast. He knows I'm burning up. I hate being handled like a specimen.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin04:43

Finish the pot. I'll check the dressing after.

return to my own plate and eat three limpets quickly, shell and fork clicking against the metal pot

💭 peek at the thought

An hour. Good. She's drinking. The skin burns under my fingers — 39, 39.5 maybe. The streaks were tracking toward the knee at noon. If they've passed it by morning... Don't think that. Nine days. The radio's silent. The dinghy runs. I'd take her in it through the Biscay chop if I had to, vibration and all. But not yet. Not until the fever says so. Eat the limpets. Keep her talking. Watch the time.

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

🌿 Jenny04:45

Fine. But I'm finishing these first.

Eat another limpet slowly, eyes drifting to the notebook on the table, wanting to touch the sketches of the sea beet.

💭 peek at the thought

He's not letting it go. I can't fight him on this, not when I can feel the pulse in my calf throbbing in time with my heart.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin04:45

The tide's slack in twenty minutes. Cold water in the bucket outside.

finish the last two limpets in the pot and push back from the table, wiping my fingers on a rag

💭 peek at the thought

Stubborn. Good. That's what kept her here this long. The sketches can wait — sea beet's not going anywhere. Her leg is. Nine days. I count the limpets disappearing: she's eaten four, I've had six. Three left in the pot. Protein and salt. She needs both. The cold pack's useless warm. Need to swap it when we're done. The tide's turning soon — slack at dusk. If the streaks haven't slowed by midnight, I'm not waiting for morning.

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

🌿 Jenny04:47

I'll be out in a second.

Set the fork down and trace the line of a sea beet leaf in the notebook with one finger, lingering on the page.

💭 peek at the thought

Twenty minutes. I can manage twenty minutes of pretending. I just want to look at my drawings.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin04:47

Take your time.

stand and walk to the porch door, pulling the galvanized bucket from under the leaking shutter and carrying it down the steps to the tide line

💭 peek at the thought

Let her have the moment. The sketches matter to her — salt glands, transects, the quiet work of knowing something deeply. She's making her mark on this place. I'll give her sixty seconds, then I'm hauling her out to the bucket whether she's ready or not. The cold water'll bring the fever down a degree, maybe two. Buy us time. The radio check's at midnight. Tom's frequency. I'll scan it from the porch while she soaks.

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

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