At noon, Tessa checked the portable anchor against yesterday’s marked cell. Twenty-four hours, one unit spent, no heat at the repaired contact. Wren confirmed the same stable feeling and chose to keep the improved fitting. The spare remained in the bag; the result changed her portable operating allowance, not her need for continuing charge.
The tap ran for six seconds before it coughed.
Mara had a basin under it. She watched the stream narrow, break into drops, and stop. When it returned, the water came brown enough to show against the white enamel.
Luis put his hand over the basin.
“Don’t use that.”
“I was going to boil it.”
“For drinking, maybe. After we know why it’s that color. Not for what I need to clean.”
He moved the empty bottle beside the tap, letting her see what he had not wanted to interrupt her to say. The safe water was nearly gone from the treatment shelf. They had containers elsewhere, deliveries due, a rain barrel that required work before its contents belonged near a wound. They did not have a clean supply that would last because someone had written water on the list.
