Taming the Beast World with a Frying Pan-Chapter 171: Oh Sweet Frying Pan

The Golden Eagle lowered its majestic head. Its silver eyes locked onto her outstretched palm, then flicked up to her smiling, hopeful face, and then back down to the berries.

Ren’s smile faltered slightly.

’Wait,’ she thought, a sudden wave of logic crashing over her. ’I’m a stranger. Why would he eat from my hand?’

She started to lower her hand. "You know what, I’ll just put them on the floor—"

Shuffle.

Before she could retract the offer, the eagle stood up.

It took two heavy, purposeful steps toward her.

Ren’s heart immediately decided to run a marathon inside her ribcage. She wasn’t afraid of the bird anymore—mostly—but having a beak the size of a meat cleaver inches from her face was still terrifyingly intimidating.

Ren’s outstretched hand began to shake.

’Don’t drop the berries,’ she told herself. ’Don’t faint. Don’t scream.’

The eagle lowered its head.

Peck.

It was surprisingly gentle. The sharp beak deftly plucked one electric blue berry from her palm.

One by one, the berries disappeared.

Ren held her breath, staring at the golden feathers on its head. She had just hand-fed a Golden Eagle. A wild, massive, magical Golden Eagle.

She let out a long, shaky exhale as the bird stepped back, chewing (or whatever birds did) contentedly.

Ren grinned. Her chest swelled with pride.

’Oh my god,’ she thought giddily. ’I am the Eagle Whisperer. I am a Beast Tamer. I am like those women in the documentaries who live in yurts and hunt with falcons.’

She could imagine her mother’s reaction. Her mother would probably have a stroke, faint, wake up, and then have another stroke just for emphasis.

"So," Ren whispered, beaming at the bird. "Does this make us friends now?"

The eagle looked at her.

Then, without a sound, it turned around, spread its massive wings, and launched itself out of the hollow.

Whoosh.

It flew straight into the pouring rain, disappearing into the grey curtain of the storm.

Ren sat there with her mouth agape, her hand still outstretched.

"Hey!" Ren called out to the empty air. "You can’t just eat and leave! That’s rude! That’s a dine and dash!"

She lowered her hand, feeling slightly rejected.

"Not even a bird wants to be friends with me," Ren sighed, slumping against the moss. "And I was actually trying to be nice."

She sat in the silence for a moment, her stomach growling loudly.

"Fine," Ren grumbled. "More berries for me."

She popped three more berries from her inventory into her mouth.

Zap.

The familiar electric shock hit her tongue, followed by the sugary sweetness. She chewed mechanically.

"I am so tired of berries," Ren moaned. "And mushrooms. And roots."

She looked at her hand. It was shaking slightly from a lack of sustenance.

"I need protein," Ren decided. "I need meat. I need a steak. I need a burger."

She thought about her trusty frying pan. It had been with her through everything. And how had she treated it?

"I haven’t even washed it," Ren realized with a pang of guilt. "I just put it back in the inventory dirty. I am a monster."

They had come to this world together. The pan was her partner, her protector, her only tether to her past life.

"I need to take better care of you," Ren whispered.

She summoned the Lodge cast-iron skillet and the bar of lavender soap from her inventory.

The pan looked... gross. It had dried blood, a few unidentifiable hairs, and maybe some fish beastmen dander on it.

"Yuck."

Ren grabbed a clump of clean moss from the edge of the nest to use as a scrubber. She went over to the entrance of the hollow, where the rain was coming down in a waterfall-like sheet.

She crouched by the edge, completely nude, and held the pan out into the deluge.

She lathered the moss with the lavender soap and began to scrub.

"Scrub-a-dub-dub," Ren muttered, cleaning the cast iron with the focus of a surgeon.

She paused for a second, looking down at herself.

She was crouching inside a tree, naked, washing a frying pan in a rainstorm with bath soap.

"Where did my pride go?" Ren wondered aloud. "When did I become such a comfortable nudist?"

She scrubbed a stubborn spot of grime.

"This world is changing me," Ren sighed. "And not for the better. I’m turning into a wild hippie."

Finally, the pan was clean. The rainwater rinsed away the suds, leaving the black iron gleaming.

Ren pulled it back into the dry hollow and admired it. It shone with a dull, heavy luster. It was beautiful.

"I’m sorry I used you as a blunt weapon," Ren apologized to the cookware, stroking the handle reverently. "From now on, I promise... only tasty food."

She set the pan on a large leaf to dry.

Then, she moved back to the edge. She cupped her hands, catching the cold rainwater, and splashed it over her face. She scrubbed her neck, her arms, and anywhere else that still had traces of mud from her earlier fall.

She was careful to stay under the shelter of the bark, shivering slightly as the cold spray hit her skin.

"Refreshing," Ren lied through chattering teeth.

She looked out at the forest. The rain was relentless. It pounded against the leaves, turning the world into a blur of grey and green.

"Is he coming back?" Ren wondered.

"Birds hate rain," she reasoned. "So why did he just take off like that? Was my company really that bad? Did I talk too much?"

She sighed, combing her fingers through her damp, tangled red hair.

"Whatever. His loss. I’m a delight."

She looked down at herself again.

"I can’t wander the forest like this," Ren muttered.

She looked around the small cave. Moss. Twigs. More moss. Decaying, large leaves.

"Itchy abomination it is," she resigned.

Her eyes landed in the corner.

There lay the clump of damp wool. The "Dress." The Itchy Abomination.

Ren stared at it with genuine disdain.

"I hate you," Ren told the dress.

She picked it up. It was heavy with water and smelled like a wet barn.

"Ugh."

Ren began to wring it out. Her arms burned as she twisted the thick fabric, squeezing out streams of water onto the ground.

She found a sturdy twig growing from the inside wall of the hollow and hung the dress on it.

She doubted it would dry anytime soon.

Ren went back to the entrance to check the weather again. She squinted into the storm.

"Still pouring," she mumbled. The rain outside showed zero signs of stopping.

Then, she froze.

Through the heavy curtain of rain, some distance away, something was standing there.

It was blurry, distorted by the rain and the distance, but the shape was unmistakable.

It was upright. Two legs. Two arms. broad shoulders.

It had the shape of a man.