The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 610: Do you want me to beat them? I am very good at beating things

Chapter 610: Chapter 610: Do you want me to beat them? I am very good at beating things

Isabella first cleared a big flat stone near the main fire pit.

The stone surface had been used before for roasting meat, so it was already smooth and familiar. She had Cyrus help her scrub it with clean snow and hot water, then dry it with animal skin until no ash or old fat remained.

She did not plan to bake the cake directly on this stone, but she needed a clean working area.

Cyrus moved quietly around her, doing everything she pointed at.

He carried sacks of ground grain, jars of honey, and a clay pot of thick beast milk to her side. He placed them carefully so she did not have to stretch too far. Whenever she bent a little, his hand appeared under her elbow as support.

"You are treating me like I am made of glass," Isabella complained, but she did not actually shake his hand away.

"If you break, I will die," Cyrus replied honestly.

Isabella almost slipped with the wooden bowl in her hand.

"Who taught you to say things like that?" she muttered under her breath. "So shameless."

Her ears were a little hot.

Zyran walked back carrying a basket of eggs. His sleeves were already splattered with yellow stains, which meant some eggs had bravely sacrificed themselves during the journey.

"Do not look at me like that," he said when Isabella raised her eyebrows. "These eggs were too weak. They saw my face and fainted in fear."

"More like you tripped," Isabella replied. "Put them here. If you waste one more, I will scramble you and feed you to Glimora."

Zyran laughed and obediently placed the eggs near her wooden mixing bowl.

Kian returned next with a clay jar of milk. The jar was warm to the touch.

"I had them heat it a little," he said. "It should mix better."

His hand brushed against hers as he passed the jar. Isabella felt the warmth of his skin and the faint calluses on his fingers. He was trying to look calm, but his eyes could not hide the worry that she might spill something on herself or slip on a wet patch of floor.

Osiris stood by the fire pit, hands loosely open above the flames.

The fire that rose from the logs was steady. It did not spit sparks wildly like usual. The heat was gentle but strong, like water flowing in one direction.

He sent Isabella a small smile.

"When you are ready, tell me how hot you want it," he said. "I will adjust it. My flames listen to me very well."

Of course they did. He was a phoenix.

Isabella took a deep breath.

She had made mistakes before. The first time she tried to cook something from her world here, it had turned into charcoal. Now the entire village still liked to tease her about that legendary black fish.

She refused to embarrass herself in front of them again.

She poured some ground grain into the wooden bowl. The powder puffed up a little, making her sneeze.

"Careful," Cyrus said quickly, handing her a piece of clean cloth to cover her nose.

She glared at him lightly, then added a bit more grain. In her mind, she tried to convert measurements based only on her eyes and her past experience.

Then came the beast milk. She poured it in slowly, stirring with a carved wooden spoon. The mixture started out thick and became softer as she added more liquid. It had to be smooth, not too runny, not too hard, like thick mud.

She cracked several eggs into a separate small stone bowl, carefully removing any shell pieces with her fingers. Zyran hovered eagerly.

"Do you want me to beat them?" he asked. "I am very good at beating things."

"Sit down," Isabella said. "You will splash it everywhere."

Zyran clutched his chest again.

"This goddess is very heartless," he said to Osiris. "She calls me only when she needs something beaten or carried, then abandons me when the eggs arrive."

Osiris side-eyed him.

"Who told you to be so proud of beating things," he replied.

Isabella ignored both of them and whisked the eggs herself, using a bundle of thin sticks tied together as a whisk. The eggs slowly turned into a foamy yellow liquid.

She added the beaten eggs into the grain mixture, stirring until everything blended.

Next came the honey.

She opened the jar, and a rich, sweet scent floated into the room. The men all turned their heads a little, noses twitching.

Isabella’s mouth watered. She used a wooden ladle to scoop out honey and let it drip into the mixture, golden and slow.

She had to save some for later, so she did not dare use too much. Still, she wanted the cake to taste sweet enough to comfort her winter mood.

After honey, she chopped some dried fruits into small pieces. They were not as soft as fresh fruit, but their flavor had become more concentrated. Little bits of red and yellow fell into the bowl.

She stirred again.

The batter looked thick, sticky, and promising.

At first, Isabella worried that the taste would be too plain. She glanced around and saw a small jar of ground spices she had collected with Shelia’s help. A tiny pinch of cinnamon like powder went in.

Just a little.

She sniffed it and nodded to herself.

"Now the problem is how to bake this thing," she murmured. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

In her original world, she would pour the batter in a metal pan and put it in an oven. Here, there were no metal pans and no fancy ovens. She had to use what she had.

She had already prepared a solution in her mind.

Earlier, she asked the men to heat several flat stones in the fire until they were very hot, then move them aside with long sticks. She also chose a wide clay pot with a lid that was not too heavy.

Now she brushed the inside of the pot with a thin layer of beast fat to prevent sticking. She poured the batter into it slowly, making sure not to spill.

The batter filled only half the pot, leaving space for it to rise, if it wanted to behave.

She tapped the pot lightly to get rid of air bubbles.

Then she covered it with the lid.

"Osiris," she called. "I need the fire to be steady and not too strong. If it is too hot, the outside will burn and the inside will still be raw. If it is too weak, we will be old by the time it cooks."