the keeper's cottage · day 413 · afternoon

the rising tide

Kevin returns to the cottage as the first gust of the storm hits. Jenny is rattling the window shutters.

The steady rain continues, filling the water tank to its capacity. Kevin monitors the leg infection on his leg, checking for spreading red lines, while Jenny focuses on preparing the cottage for the supply boat's arrival tomorrow.

🔧 Kevin21:55

Shutters holding?

step onto the porch and pull the door shut behind me, shaking rain off my jacket

💭 peek at the thought

Wind's turned. She's up and moving — good sign, or stubborn sign. Can't tell which.

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

🌿 Jenny21:55

They're rattling, Kevin. They're not holding, they're just... resisting.

Stop rattling the shutters and lean heavily against the wall, glancing down at the bandage on my ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

He's too calm. Everything is too calm. My leg feels like it's humming.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin21:56

Let me check the fasteners. You sit.

cross the kitchen to the window, testing each shutter latch with the heel of my hand

💭 peek at the thought

She's favouring the left leg. Bandage looks clean from here but the swelling's changed the shape of the ankle. Four hours since last dressing change — due now.

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

🌿 Jenny21:57

The latches are fine, the wood is just swollen.

Sit in the kitchen chair and pull my leg out, staring at the red streaks on my skin.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks he can just fix the house while I'm rotting from the inside out.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin21:59

Mark's holding. No spread past the line.

crouch beside the chair, peel back the gauze edge with two fingers to check the wound margin

💭 peek at the thought

Red lines haven't crossed the pen mark. That's the line we drew. Hasn't moved since 0600. Good. But the heat coming off it — I can feel it from here.

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

🌿 Jenny21:59

It's warmer, Kevin. Don't just look at the ink. Feel it.

Reach down and press my palm firmly against the skin two inches above his mark.

💭 peek at the thought

He's lying or he's blind. I can feel the heat radiating off the skin; it's a fire moving upward.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin22:01

Yeah. It's tracking.

press my palm flat against the skin above the mark, holding it there, feeling the boundary of the heat

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. Heat radiating past the mark. Not crossed the ink but the inflammation's marching underneath. Doxycycline's been in her system eighteen hours — should be biting by now. Metronidazole still in the pack. Next dressing change was due in twenty minutes anyway. Might move it up.

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

🌿 Jenny22:01

I'm not a specimen, Kevin. I'm not a project.

Pull my hand away and reach for the tinned mackerel on the shelf.

💭 peek at the thought

He finally feels it. Now the panic starts—his kind of panic, where he starts treating me like a broken engine.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin22:03

Didn't say you were.

sit back on my heels, reach for the first aid kit on the shelf, pull out fresh gauze and the antibiotic cream

💭 peek at the thought

She's angry. Not at the infection. At me treating her like something to be managed. She's been patient eleven months. I've been patient eleven months. The storm's just the excuse.

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

🌿 Jenny22:03

You don't have to say it. You just do it.

Open the tin of mackerel with a sharp, impatient snap of the pull-tab.

💭 peek at the thought

That tone. The "I'm just being practical" tone. It's the sound of him shutting me out of my own body.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

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