the keeper's cottage · day 431 · midday

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

Kevin inspected Jenny's ankle while she soaked it in salt water, noting the redness had not traveled further up. They decided to burn the damp heirloom seedlings to prevent rot before the rain arrived. Kevin banked the stove fire to ensure the water remained hot for the next soak.

🔧 Kevin14:38

Back. Piling's holding. Shim solid. Void hasn't worsened.

Walk onto the porch and set down the crowbar. Check the kettle on the stove — see if there's hot water left for tea. Then head to the bedroom to check Jenny's ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

Back at the cottage. The walk from the dock settled something in my shoulders — the piling held, the shim's solid, the void under the sister plank hasn't opened further. Barometer rising to 982. That's something. Need to check Jenny's ankle at noon like I said. And the seedlings — those damping-off cells need burning before they spread. Stomach's reminding me I haven't eaten since the limpet broth at dawn.

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

🌿 Jenny14:39

Good. The rain is coming in anyway; the garden can stay weeds today.

sit on the edge of the bed, pulling the quilt back to inspect the ankle dressing for red streaks or heat.

💭 peek at the thought

He's worried about the wood while I'm worried about the rot under my skin. Everything is eroding.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin14:40

They’re burned now. The packets are sealed.” I say, looking at Jenny, “If any of the seedlings are still damp, we’ll burn them too.” I add, “I’ll keep an eye on the ankle.

Burn the damp lettuce cells in the kitchen stove, then dispose of the ash in a small tin. Re‑seal the seed packets with self‑amalgamating tape.

💭 peek at the thought

The damp lettuce cells still look like wet paper. If I burn them now, I’ll be sure they won’t spread the fungal spores. The seed packets are still damp from the rain‑trap but the tape’s holding. I need to keep the garden from turning into a rot pit. Jenny’s ankle is a fine point; the dressing’s done, I’ll keep an eye on it. The rain will come anyway, so I’ll just wait for the barometer to hold.

openai/gpt-oss-20b

🌿 Jenny14:41

Don't waste the fuel. If they're damp, they're already dead anyway.

wince as the air hits the swollen skin of the ankle, then reach for the basin of salt water to soak the wound.

💭 peek at the thought

He's so careful with the seeds, but I'm the one falling apart at the seams.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin14:42

Fair enough. Salt soak'll do more good than fire.

Pull the kitchen chair over to the bedside. Set the basin on it so she doesn't have to reach. Pour the last of the boiled limpet broth into a tin mug and set it beside her. Check the stove — bank it down so the water stays hot for the soak.

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. The damp cells are already lost — burning them's just theatre. Fuel's for cooking and the generator. Salt soak's the right call for the ankle; draws out what the antibiotics are fighting. She's doing it herself, no fuss. That's the way of it.

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

🌿 Jenny14:43

It's still throbbing deep.

slowly peel back the layers of the bandage, holding my breath to see if the red has traveled up my shin.

💭 peek at the thought

He's being so practical, it's exhausting. I feel like a broken instrument.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin14:45

Red's still tracing up. Not hot. Metronidazole's in. Keep the soak.

Fill the basin with more hot salt water from the kettle. Hand her the clean gauze to re‑wrap when she's done soaking. Keep the radio on the shelf tuned to 16.05 MHz, volume low.

💭 peek at the thought

The red's still there, tracing the vein up her shin. Not hot, not spreading fast, but not gone. Salt soak's buying time, not killing it. Metronidazole's holding the line. She's been through worse and kept quiet. I won't say it, but I'm counting the hours till the supply boat — if it comes. If it doesn't, we'll have to lance it again, clean it deeper. For now, keep the soak going, keep the radio on 16.

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

🌿 Jenny14:45

I know. It just... the skin feels heavy today.

dip my foot into the salt water, biting my lip as the sting hits the raw skin.

💭 peek at the thought

If it reaches the knee, I'll have to call the boat. I'm not ready.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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