The chill of dawn slowly dissipated as the first timid light of the sun penetrated the ice-covered forest canopy. The fire had already died down, leaving only dead embers and a faint smell of smoke. The silence was almost absolute, broken only by the distant breath of the wind and the soft breathing of two bodies nearby.

Ester opened her eyes slowly, accustomed to waking before any danger. She raised her gaze to the livid sky, assessed her surroundings accurately, and, satisfied that nothing was approaching, finally turned back to the warmth nearby.

And that was when she realized.

A firm weight settled against her waist, and when she lowered her eyes, the sight almost made her breath catch.

Damon was there, lying as if the world were without trouble, the peaceful face of a man sound asleep. His arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, as if he had decided that this position was the most comfortable in the universe. His head rested close to her shoulder, and his features, usually full of mockery and irony, were now serene, almost innocent.

She blinked a few times, astonished. Heat rose to her face in an immediate blush.

"But… what…?" she murmured softly, without moving.

Her heart raced. She could feel his breath, soft, against her skin. She could feel the weight of his body, firm, almost protective. And the more she noticed, the harder it became to simply push him away.

He… is handsome.

The idea arose without permission, like a dangerous spark. Ester's eyes widened, feeling betrayed by her own thought. But she couldn't deny it. His tangled blond hair fell lightly over his forehead, and for a moment she found herself imagining what it would be like to run her fingers through those unruly strands.

Her hand, almost instinctively, began to move. She rose a few inches, hesitant, as if it had a life of its own. Her fingers were just steps away from touching that straw-colored hair when she realized.

Her heart was beating too fast. Almost painful.

Frightened by what she felt, Ester looked away abruptly, turning her face to one side, then the other, as if the simple act of not seeing him would dispel the turmoil in her mind.

"What the... hell am I thinking?" she whispered to herself, pressing her lips together.

She didn't understand. It didn't make sense. Never in her entire life had anyone broken her walls. She was Ester Deathstriker: steadfast, unshakable, cold as the ice she carried inside. But now... now she was sitting there, with a reckless scoundrel clinging to her waist, and her heart was beating like a foolish teenager's.

Confusion. Anger. Embarrassment. Everything mingled into a single wave that threatened to drown her.

It was at that moment that she heard a low sound.

A grunt.

"Hmm…" Damon groaned in his sleep, and his grip on her waist tightened, as if he were afraid of losing the human pillow he'd found.

A blush exploded on her face. Survival instinct spoke louder than any other emotion.

"Idiot!" she hissed, and with a sudden movement, she pushed his body away.

Damon didn't even have time to react. The momentum threw him backward, straight into the still-warm embers of the extinguished fire.

"AAAAAH!" The scream tore through the morning, and he jumped off the ground as if struck by lightning. "HOT, HOT, HOT!"

He began to hop from one foot to the other, slapping his clothes, trying to extinguish the heat that had spread across his back. His movements were clumsy, almost cartoonish, as if he were dancing a strange, improvised choreography.

Ester stood motionless for two seconds, watching that absurd scene. And then… it happened.

Laughter escaped.

It was quiet, barely contained at first, but it grew in waves. A clear, sincere sound, like crystals tinkling in the cold air. She brought her hand to her mouth, surprised at herself, but she couldn't help it. Her body shook with laughter, her shoulders shook, her half-closed eyes watering slightly.

Damon froze mid-leap. The shock of pain dissipated at the sound he'd never heard before.

He turned slowly, his clothes still singed and his face slightly incredulous.

And he saw.

Ester was laughing.

It wasn't a sneer. It wasn't a cold mockery. It was a genuine, bright laugh that softened every feature of her hard face. It was as if her rigidity had melted for an instant, revealing a beauty even more dangerous than when she was serious.

Damon's chest tightened.

He fell silent, simply absorbing the sight, as if he'd found a treasure rarer than any cultivation technique.

Ester caught his eye, and instantly, the blush crept back onto her face. The laughter stopped abruptly, as if it had never been. She turned away, coughing falsely, trying to regain her composure.

"Idiot," she muttered, adjusting her cloak around her shoulders. "That's what you get for sleeping like a pig."

Damon smiled slowly, a different smile. It wasn't malicious, nor teasing. It was soft. Almost... genuine.

"That sound..." he said, his voice lower than usual. "It was the first time."

Ester blinked, confused. "First time what?"

"I've seen you laugh," he answered without hesitation, his eyes fixed on her. "Since we met."

The words hung in the air, carrying an unexpected weight.

Ester looked away again, clenching her jaw, trying to ward off the vulnerability that threatened to surface.

"Don't get used to it," was all she said dryly. But the color in her cheeks betrayed her.

Damon didn't answer. He just let his smile linger, his heart feeling strangely light.

No matter how much the cold bit his skin, no matter how much the dangers of the forest still surrounded them, that morning had become something unique.

A rare moment.

A stolen laugh.

Ester took a deep breath, trying to regain her breath and composure after the unexpected laugh that had escaped. The memory of the sound still vibrated in the air, and it made her even more irritated with herself.

She jumped to her feet, adjusting her sword at her waist and brushing the accumulated snow off her cloak. Her rigid posture and hard gaze had returned, as if nothing had happened.

"Let's go," she said firmly, turning her back to him. "Get ready quickly." We have a city to reach.

Damon, still smelling faintly of smoke on his charred clothes, raised an eyebrow and gave that crooked smile he always had.

"Wow, so cold this early in the morning?" he teased, patting his hands on his back to brush away the ash. "I thought we just shared a special moment."

A blush rose to her cheeks again, but she ignored it, walking a few steps forward as if it weren't there.

"If you keep standing there, the next special moment will be me leaving you behind."

Damon laughed, throwing his arms behind his head, as if completely relaxed despite the threat. "Okay, okay... I get it. Cold on the outside, but warm on the inside."

Ester paused for a moment. The silence that followed was so intense that Damon considered he'd gone too far. Then she simply said, without turning around:

"Damon..."

"Hm?" he replied, that little smile still on his face.

"Shut up."

He laughed, and this time the sound echoed across the snow-covered clearing.

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