Taming the Beast World with a Frying Pan-Chapter 168: Mother knows best?

Ren froze. The creature froze.

It wasn’t a monster.

It was a bird.

But calling it "a bird" was like calling a truck "a car."

It was a Golden Eagle, but clearly one that had been drinking protein shakes since hatching. It was bigger than the ones in Ren’s world—roughly the size of a very fit Great Dane—but it wasn’t monstrously huge like the other beasts she had encountered.

It was, objectively, stunning.

Its feathers weren’t just brown; they were a shimmering, lustrous blonde that looked like spun gold in the dim light of the hollow. Its beak was a terrifyingly sharp hook of polished brown. But it was the eyes that stopped Ren’s heart.

They were silver. Liquid, piercing, intelligent silver eyes that stared right into her soul.

It was seated comfortably in a large nest made of dried branches and soft moss, occupying the back half of the hollow. It just sat there. Staring. Judging?

Ren’s brain didn’t see "Majestic Creature of the Sky."

Ren’s brain saw: DEATH.

A repressed memory unlocked instantly.

"Ren! Look at this!" 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

She could hear her mother’s frantic voice. She could see the Facebook Messenger link.

Video Title: EAGLE SNATCHES GOAT OFF MOUNTAIN (GRAPHIC).

When Ren had told her mother she was filming Gourmet in the Wild, her mother hadn’t been worried about bears or wolves. No. Her mother had a very specific, very intense phobia of large birds...particularly, eagles.

"They have knives on their feet, Ren!" her mother had screamed over the phone. "They drop turtles on people’s heads! Remember your Uncle Earl?"

Ren remembered Uncle Earl. He had gone fishing in Alaska and never came back. The official report said "boating accident," but her mother swore—based on zero evidence and a lot of Facebook conspiracy groups—that he had been mauled to death by a bald eagle.

"But Mom, that’s a bald eagle in Alaska," Ren had argued. "This is just a wilderness show in Oregon."

"Eagles are eagles, Ren!" her mother had countered, her logic defying all biology. "Bald, hairy, golden, bronze... it doesn’t matter! If it flies and has claws, it wants to eat your face! And they are everywhere!"

Ren had laughed then. She wasn’t laughing now.

The Golden Eagle blinked its silver eyes. It shifted slightly in the nest.

Ren flinched.

The bird lifted one of its massive wings, perhaps to stretch, or perhaps to simply adjust a feather.

To Ren, it looked like it was winding up for a slap.

"NOPE!" Ren shrieked.

Her mother’s voice screamed in her head: ’RUN, REN! IT’S GOING TO MAUL YOUR FACE!’

Ren chose the lesser of two evils.

She turned and sprinted out of the hollow, diving headfirst back into the torrential rain.

The storm swallowed her instantly.

"I’m sorry, Mom! You were right! They are scary!" Ren sobbed as she ran blindly through the forest.

She couldn’t see five feet in front of her. The rain was a grey curtain of water that blurred the world into a smudge of green and brown.

She had no idea where she was going. She just knew she had to get away.

She ran. And ran. And ran.

The wool dress, which had previously been itchy, was now a torture device. It had soaked up tremendous amounts of rainwater. It hung off her body like a lead apron, dragging her down, while the raw fibers scrubbed her skin raw.

"It’s so heavy!" Ren gasped, wiping water from her eyes. "I hate this stupid dress!"

She leaped over a root. She splashed through a puddle that went up to her knees.

’My luck,’ Ren thought hysterically. ’My luck is trash. I survive a pit of poop, I survive a flu, I get clean, I get healthy... only to be in this mess again?!’

She wiped the rain from her face, squinting through the downpour.

Ahead, she saw a large tree with wide, sheltering branches.

"Shelter!" Ren gasped.

She veered toward it, head down, arms pumping.

She didn’t see the massive, dark shape already occupying the dry spot under the tree.

She just saw "dry."

Ren burst into the dry circle under the branches.

She ran full speed into a wall of fur.

"Oof!" Ren bounced off, landing on her butt in the mud.

"Groar?" a deep, confused rumble shook the air.

Ren looked up.

Towering above her, standing on its hind legs to inspect the intruder, was a bear. A very large, very brown, and very dry bear.

It looked down at her. She looked up at it.

The bear blinked. It had just been trying to stay dry. It hated the rain. And now, a wet thing had just headbutted its stomach.

Ren’s brain short-circuited.

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

Ren screamed the scream of a woman who had reached her limit.

The scream was so loud, so high-pitched, and so sudden that the bear actually jumped.

"RAAAH!" the bear roared back, purely out of surprise.

Ren scrambled to her feet.

"Nooooooo!"

She bolted. She ran back into the rain.

The bear, recovering from the surprise and confusion, narrowed its eyes. Its predator instinct kicked in.

’Small thing run. I chase small thing.’

It dropped to all fours and charged.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Ren heard the heavy paws hitting the mud behind her.

"Why?!" Ren cried to the heavens. "AHHHH!"

She pushed her legs to move faster, but the mud was treacherous. The forest floor was a slick, sliding mess of sludge.

She rounded a large fern, her foot planting on a patch of wet grass.

There was zero traction.

"No—"

Her foot slid out from under her. Her ankle twisted at a really bad angle.

"ACK!"

Ren went down hard. She hit the ground with a splash, mud flying everywhere.

Pain—hot, white, and sharp—shot up her leg.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Ren grasped her ankle, curling into a ball.

She tried to stand up. She tried to push through the pain. But her leg gave way instantly, sending her back into the muck.

"Come on!" she gritted out, dragging herself forward by her elbows. "Move!"

Growl.

The sound was right behind her.

Ren flipped onto her back, her face caked in mud.

The bear was there. It loomed over her.

It crouched low, muscles bunching in its hind legs.

Ren stared up at it. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t fight. She was wearing a wet sheep.

This might just be...the end?