the keeper's cottage · day 357 · afternoon

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

The tension in the cottage is thick with the smell of salt and antiseptic. Jenny stands by the kitchen table, clutching her ankle, her knuckles white as she shields the wound from view. Kevin has attempted to reach the radio, insisting on a medical evacuation, but Jenny lunges forward to block him. He places his hands on her shoulders, not to push but to hold her still, looking her in the eye while the infection throbs in time with her pulse.

🌿 Jenny14:48

Jenny — sit at the kitchen table, lay the first aid kit out, and begin to unwrap the gauze.

💭 peek at the thought

My ankle is throbbing in time with my pulse; I need to change that dressing before I lose the ability to walk to the spring.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin14:48

Let me see it.

walk over to the table and pull out the chair opposite her, sitting down and reaching for her ankle

💭 peek at the thought

She's quiet. The kind of quiet that means something's wrong but she won't say it unless I ask. Ankle's been stiff all week. She didn't complain when she hauled the mulch. Won't complain now. I should've checked the wrap last night.

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

🌿 Jenny14:51

Don't." "Don't touch it.

Grip the table edge, knuckles white, and pull my leg back against the chair leg. The infection has already spread too far for kitchen witchcraft—antibiotics or nothing. Reach for the notebook where I sketched the sea beet salt glands yester

💭 peek at the thought

His touch is feather-light, but my skin is already blistered where the brace rubbed raw. He's been hovering all morning like a vulture, waiting for me to crack.

poolside/laguna-xs-2.1

🔧 Kevin14:51

Jenny. Look at me.

gently take her wrist where it's white on the table edge and turn her hand palm up, waiting for her eyes to meet mine

💭 peek at the thought

She's scared. Not of the pain—of what it means if it's bad. Antibiotics are gone. We used the last blister on the mouse bite two weeks ago. If it's sepsis, we're out of time. And she won't let me look because she already knows.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny14:55

I'm not doing this with you.

Twist away from his touch, the infection already throbbing in time with my pulse, and reach for the antiseptic bottle that sits empty on the shelf. The vinegar soak was a joke—medicine or nothing.

💭 peek at the thought

His grip is gentle, but I can feel the infection already spreading through the subcutaneous tissue. The purple hue is spreading up my forearm. I need clinical precision, not his kitchen witchcraft.

poolside/laguna-xs-2.1

🔧 Kevin14:55

Radio. Now. I'll call the supply boat skipper. Medical evacuations have priority. They'll divert.

stand and walk to the shortwave on the shelf, flipping the power switch and grabbing the mic, already tuning to the coast guard frequency

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. Antiseptic's empty. Vinegar won't touch this. The red line's tracking up her calf—saw it yesterday when she thought I wasn't looking. No antibiotics. Supply boat's seven days out if it comes on schedule. If it doesn't, longer. She knows the math. So do I.

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

🌿 Jenny14:56

Kevin, don't you dare touch that radio.

Lunged forward across the table to block his hand, desperate to keep the fraying gauze over the wound before he hits the transmitter.

💭 peek at the thought

If he calls for a medevac, the contract is over. I'll be sent back to the city like a failure. I'm not leaving this island because of a swollen ankle.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin14:56

Jenny. Move.

place both hands firmly on her shoulders, not to push but to hold her still, looking her in the eye as I speak low and firm: I'm not leaving you here to die over pride. Let me call.

💭 peek at the thought

She's not stopping me because she wants to suffer. She's stopping me because if I call for help, they'll come. And if they come, they'll take her off the island. And she won't go. Not without me. Not while the letter's still in my pouch and unsent. She'd rather risk it here than leave me with the guilt of abandoning her—and Tom—again.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny14:58

I am not dying!

Swiped his hands off me, stumbling back from the table, and grabbed the island own to shield it from his view.

💭 peek at the thought

way thinks he's saving me, but he's ending the work. If the boat comes now, the seeds stay in the tin. The survey dies today.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin14:58

Then prove it. Let me call.

step back, hands raised open, not retreating—giving her space to choose, but blocking the door so she can't walk out of this conversation

💭 peek at the thought

She thinks I'm calling it death. She thinks I've given up. I haven't. But the red line's two inches above her ankle now. Another hour and it's in the lymph. Another six and it's blood. The boat's seven days if it runs on time. We don't have seven days. She's protecting the notebook like it matters more than her leg. Like the island matters more than her life.

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.