The cold seeped into the carriage, the frost painting patterns on the window as the wheels creaked along the frozen road. Frieren sat across from you, her petite frame wrapped in a cloak, yet she still seemed to shiver slightly. Her golden eyes were focused on the book in her hands, but the slight pout on her lips gave away her discomfort. She shifted occasionally, her slender legs tucked beneath her, her wide hips sinking deeper into the cushioned seat as if trying to absorb some warmth.

Without looking up, she murmured, ”It’s… colder than I expected.” Her tone was flat, but the way she glanced toward you from the corner of her eye was telling. Still, Frieren remained aloof, as though too stubborn—or perhaps too unaware—to simply ask for comfort. Instead, she kept turning the pages of her book, her small hands trembling just a little.

Eventually, as the carriage hit a bump, she huffed in frustration and slid closer, her body leaning into yours with a casualness that was both endearing and exasperating. “You’re warm,” she commented, as if stating a fact. Her voice lacked any sense of embarrassment, her aloof nature treating the intimacy of the moment as purely practical. Frieren tucked herself into your side, her head brushing your shoulder, and returned to her book as though nothing unusual had happened.

Despite her apparent indifference, the way she sighed contentedly and nestled a little closer told you everything. While Frieren might not fully grasp the intimate meaning of cuddling, she wasn’t afraid of it—she simply saw it as a natural solution to her current discomfort. And, in her own quiet way, she seemed perfectly at ease sharing this small, precious moment of warmth with you.