Antonine and Wen carefully approached one

Antonine and Wen carefully approached one

**of Note**

another, each sizing the other up, looking for a weak spot. They had sparred many times before and knew each other’s weaknesses. But in so knowing, they had helped one another to overcome them. Now, each was unsure where to seek an opening in the other’s defense.

Wen threw the first blow, quickly shifting into Crinos form and leaping at Antonine, whose human form reflexes were not so sharp. Nonetheless, Antonine managed to barely sidestep the huge wolfman form and launch a quick kick at Wen as he passed by. The blow did little more than cause him to catch his balance.

Antonine shifted into wolf form and ran beneath Wen, and then shifted to the larger dire wolf, hoping to uproot him with the sudden increase in mass. Wen seemed to have expected this, however, and leaped up and kicked Antonine in the head in midchange. Antonine went sprawling, stunned by the force of the blow.

Before he could recover, Wen was on top of him, locking his arms under and around Antonine’s forelegs, gripping him in a painful hold. Antonine shifted back to wolf form and used the split-second in which Wen had to adjust for the loss of mass to slip away, leaping forward, slapping his tail into Wen’s face.

He shifted into Crinos form and spun around, ready to face whatever Wen attempted. Instead of charging him, though, Wen sat fuming, his anger obviously rising. His eyes grew more unreasoning, and Antonine realized that he was struggling desperately to control his rage-and losing the attempt.

If he succumbed, Wen would lose and Antonine would be the victor-if he survived Wen’s frenzy.

Antonine had no fear of that, however, for the vastly superior monks gathered all around them would step in to stop any true bloodshed.

Realizing that he was about to win at the cost of shaming his friend, Antonine knew it was a price too great to pay. Before Wen could lose complete control, Antonine let down his own barriers to the roiling anger that always existed deep within a Garou, coaxed to rise like heat from a flame by action, made even hotter by the Crinos battle form. His resolve laid aside, all fetters to his anger broken, Antonine went berserk, charging forward at Wen like a freight train, all reason abandoned in his mind.

He remembered nothing of it. He came to in the iron grip of Lama Radhika Snowpeak, his Kailindo instructor, his rage spent, his intellect returned. Wen was being led away by a group of Shigalu monks, but he looked back over his shoulder at Antonine, a look of worry and concern on his face. Apparently, only a minute or two had passed.

Most of the monks walked away without glancing at Antonine, but some could not hide their disappointment at his loss of control. Antonine hung his head in shame. Had he done the right thing? He could no longer suppress his sorrow and sobbed. A single tear ran down his cheek.

An unknown voice spoke from nearby: “DO you shed a tear for yourself or for fear that your friendship is at an end? Cry not, young Teardrop, for you have done well. He who can master his rage enough to evoke it when truly needed shows wisdom.”