[Riven's POV]
The second morning hurt worse than the first.
Every muscle in Riven's body screamed protest as he rolled out of his bunk, the thin mattress offering no mercy to shoulders that felt like they'd been beaten with hammers.
His hands were stiff, the blisters from yesterday's work already forming calluses that would take weeks to properly develop.
Around him, other provisional residents moved through their morning routines with the mechanical efficiency of people who'd learned that being late meant the worst assignments. Lisa was already dressed, tying her boots with quick, precise movements.
"You're moving like an old man," she observed without looking up.
"Feel like one." Riven flexed his fingers, wincing at the protest from tendons he'd never known existed. "Does it get easier?"
"Eventually. Though 'easier' is relative when you're rebuilding a settlement in a dimensional wasteland."
