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The Cannibal
I'm a mentor, Goldfeather thought as he stepped away from the Breezerock. The announcement hadn't set in right away - although he and Blazingstar were never close, never properly acquainted, the leader's death had hit him hard. It was as if he'd lost a part of himself; after all it had been Blazingstar to allow him a home and WindClan, and he would always be grateful for that.
His amber eyes scanned the crowd of cats, flinching whenever one brushed too close. Another thought struck him.
Simmerpaw is- was Blazingstar's son. He was going to be teaching the former leader's
son. A thread of anxiety began to worm its way into his thoughts, and he shook his head as if to toss it away.
"Calm down," he muttered to himself.
"You'll be fine. It'll all be fine. Just... just don't get him killed." Feeling less than reassured, he stood and shook the clinging grass blades from his paws. There, there he was. Goldfeather wasn't sure how he knew, but he was positive the tom with the green eyes, the one sitting in the clearing with his chin tilted up, as Simmerpaw. The young cat had a certain air about him, and for some reason it made Goldfeather fidget nervously.
He approached the apprentice carefully, attempting to look professional while also warm and welcoming. He nodded to Simmerpaw as he drew closer.
"Greetings," he meowed, and winced at the shakiness in his voice. He cleared his throat, tried again.
"I'm Goldfeather. I assume you're Simmerpaw?"