Ren stared down at the weeping mother and the frail, barely-breathing tiger cub in her arms.
A cold sweat broke out across Ren's forehead. 'Oh my god,' she panicked internally. 'I am a Michelin-star chef, not a pediatrician! I don't practice Beast World medicine!'
What would happen if the stew couldn't make the cub feel better? What if the baby just had a normal, non-feral cold? If this seasoned elk meat didn't immediately revive the kid, the clan would absolutely lose their minds. Would she get stoned? Would they beat her to death with her own wooden bowls?!
Despite her mounting panic, the mother's tears tugged painfully at Ren's heartstrings. She couldn't just stand there and do nothing. Ren grabbed the ladle and moved to serve a fresh bowl of the rich, warm stew.
But before she could even dip the wood into the broth...
"Katleen! Get off your knees!" the elder suddenly roared, his voice cracking like a whip across the clearing.
Ren paused, ladle hovering mid-air.
