Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

12. Time-out

It was already late when Creed finally stopped. He was tired, after having spent the entire afternoon running through the woods, attacking random trees and branches, and even killing a stubborn elk bull that had been too proud to move away from harm's way. The animal's stubbornness and defiance had reminded him of Irbis, which had made him go into such a raging frenzy; he had not only killed the animal but actually shredded it to pieces. Partially refreshed after the blood bath, he had wished Irbis had seen the attack. He had no doubts that the vision of the completely torn apart animal would have inspired fear in the kid.

But then again, she wouldn't have been scared. And that simple thought had once more boiled his blood.

But he was calm now. Hungry, maybe, but calm. He realized he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, thanks to Irbis. Why couldn't the kid just fear him like any normal person, and obey him? Creed recalled how he had so generously helped her, saved her life (twice, already!), offered her a royally well paid job which required so little of her, and he was even teaching her how to defend herself. And what did she do? She rebelled against him! It was unbelievable. The ungrateful bitch indeed.

Creed kicked a tree in front of him and a hare sped out of its lure. Darn, he was hungry. And that was Irbis's fault, too! He sniffed the air. He didn't feel like going back to the elk meat - he wasn't so hungry he'd be willing to eat hours-old minced meat. Going into stealth mode, Creed wandered around and into a swampy area. Prints on the mud warned him that a deer and its young had gone that way a few minutes before. He licked his lips.

Ten minutes later, mother and young were under his eye. He approached them very slowly. The doe sensed something and looked around nervously. Creed froze. He focused his attention on the young. It wasn't close enough just yet, and there were too many chances of missing it. Creed wasn't willing to fail this hunt: he was hungry for tender meat, and if he couldn't have Irbis's, he was going to have that fawn's.

He stood perfectly still long enough for the doe to calm down. Then he started moving. Keeping his crouching position, he transferred his weight to his left foot and once more waited before lifting his right foot and bringing it a couple inches forward. Carefully, he started setting down his foot but stopped suddenly when he felt a twig threatening to break under his boot. Ever so slowly, he once more lifted his foot and lowered it slightly to the side.

Creed didn't like hunting with boots precisely because of this: it was much easier to stalk when he was either barefoot or wearing light leather shoes, similar to Indian moccasins. If it weren't for his heightened senses, for instance, he wouldn't have noticed that twig and his prey would have been warned of his presence by its breaking. He wished he had remembered taking off the darned boots, but the only thing to do now was being extra mindful of the material underfoot.

Ten minutes later, and Creed had crept a few precious inches closer to the feeding fawn. A gust of wind warned him that the wind's direction could change at any minute, so he decided to make his move. Creed watched the fawn carefully and tensed up every muscle in his body, ready for a sprint. The animal hopped around its mother playfully, sometimes stooping to taste the grass, sometimes bugging the doe for some milk.

All of a sudden, Creed jumped forward and sprinted for his prey. The puzzled creature stared at its attacker for a single moment and sprang to the side, trying to turn around as fast as possible so it could follow the doe's flight. Had the fawn had its back to the predator and it might have had escaped. As it was, Creed was able to scratch one of the hind legs hard enough to break the young's impulse. Another two steps and he was crushing the animal's neck.

As Creed fed upon the tender meet, he felt much more relaxed. Fresh tasty meat dripping blood often had that effect on him. It was getting dark, now, and he started thinking about Irbis. His blood didn't boil at the thought of her anymore, and he was able to think clearly for once.

He had left her unconscious, but she should have woken up quite some time ago. What could she possibly be doing now? Creed had finished the best parts of the carcass by then, so he left the rest for any scavengers around and started back to the camp site.

Irbis was lying down close to a tree, securely wrapped in her sleeping bag. Creed forced his growl into silence. So the kid wouldn't obey him, would she, or be afraid of him? And threats and beatings had no effect on her, had they? Well, maybe she'd think twice at having to take care of herself all on her own!

Creed sat down and got ready to spend the night. It ought to be very late. He didn't have his watch on, but since the nearly full moon had already gone through two thirds of its nightly course, it was safe to assume it was about two or three in the morning. Listening carefully, he ascertained that Irbis was sleeping. He leaned his head on the tree and doze off, ready to snap at the slightest movement from the camp site.