#shellfrost

Aliases / Nicknames: Pitch, Badger-Cat

Gender: tom

Sexuality: bisexual, aromantic

Family: unnamed mother, unnamed father

Other Relations: Sootfang, unnamed apprentice

Clan: Shadowclan

Rank: deputy

Characteristics: kills warriors of Clans threatening his own, brings bodies near their camps

Number of Victims: 3

Number of Murders: 3

Murder Method: snapping necks

Known Victims: Gingerwhisker, Shellfrost, Elmbreeze

Cause of Death: fall, blunt force trauma, killed by Cedarnose

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

He was a Half-Clan kit, which of course put some contempt onto his existence. His mother got together with a loner, and didn’t bother hiding it. She was the kind that was unapologetic about that kind of stuff. It was her own life, and that. What would the leader do? Throw out a perfectly good warrior carrying a future perfectly good warrior?

In spite of the stares and comments, most didn’t take their dislike of the situation over the kit. There were even a few of the warriors that chose to play with him out of sympathy, or perhaps wanting to show their Clanmates that he was just like the rest of them.

Pitchkit felt cared for enough to love his Clan, and rejected enough to feel a need to prove himself more than the other kits.

Sootfang, one of the warriors who often played with him, and who became his mentor. He supported Pitchpaw’s resolve to work as hard as he could, reminding him every now and again to take a break.

Pitchpaw was about to change the elder’s bedding when he overhead them discussing him, saying how with his loner blood, he would run away at the first sign of danger, among other heartbreaking things.

He ran off into the woods until his legs were too tired to move anymore. Sootfang caught up with him, leading to a long, heart-to-heart. Sootfang revealed that he, too, was Half-Clan. In fact, hardly Clan at all, according to what they said when he was Pitchpaw’s age. His mother was a loner who became sick while expectant with him, and sought out the Clan’s aid. She died shortly after he was born, and the Clan took him in.

Pitchpaw had been shocked, and part of him felt broken to now the Clan he loved could be so cruel to those who were different. The other part felt warm and comforted, knowing he wasn’t alone and that there were those that did love him in spite of knowing his origin.

In addition, Sootfang was now one of the most respected cats in the Clan because of how hard he worked and trained. Pitchpaw’s resolve returned. He would do it too.

And he was rewarded. He became respected, admired, deputy.

The bitter hurt of early rejection was forever present, but distant now, as though it had happened to someone else. He truly did love his Clan, every warrior and every piece of territory it protected. He was reasonably angry when Riverclan threatened war. 

They were in a drought and needed more territory for food, but the territory they wanted was home to medicine Shadowclan needed, with five of its warriors sick.

Shadowclan could not afford a battle right now. It was stretching itself weak as it was, with warriors needing to go out, in, and right back out on patrols. Everyone was either too sick or too tired. There was no way the battle could not result in serious injury, possibly even death.

They needed to be scared off, but how?

The first time wasn’t calculated, a slip of anger. A Riverclan warrior was taunting him and his patrol. They got into a fight with one of his younger warriors. He was hurting them. In an attempt to separate them, Pitchfang had accidently snapped the Riverclanner’s neck.

The patrol was in panic, but Pitchfang felt oddly calm. He stared at the body as solutions fit together in his mind like a puzzle, becoming clearer and clearer.

He made the patrol calm down. Then he ordered them to help him carry the body. They weren’t exactly eager to do so, but Pitchfang managed to convince them. 

Riverclan needed to now what Shadowclan was capable of. Anyone could kill a lone warrior at the border. Only a truly dangerous warrior could bring the body right to its camp!

The warriors still weren’t eager, but Pitchfang made a good case. They couldn’t revive the dead, the least they could do was make sure his death was not in vain, and that no one else would have to die in the Riverclan-Shadowclan feud. 

Even though he expected it, Pitchfang couldn’t help but feel surprised that it had worked. Riverclan had suddenly stopped their threats, even patrolling the Shadowclan border.

The cats kept quiet. No one else knew why Riverclan stopped their threats, but they wouldn’t question it.

One of the warriors, Cedarnose came close to caving in after the next gathering, where Riverclan announced the cat, Shellfrost, would be greatly missed by his friends and family. It made it too real for them, to know that the cat they dragged was someone who would be missed.

Pitchfang made him ponder what was worse, someone you don’t know dying and knowing their family, who you also don’t know or see, are mourning, or have your own beloved Clanmates die and have the Clanmates you do know and care about mourn? 

It had to be done.

It would be done again.

Twice again, he killed warriors who wandered alone by the borders. Elmbreeze, who was one of many Thunderclan perpetrators stealing prey from Shadowclan during leaf-bare, passing the strip of land that belonged to Skyclan. And Gingerwhisker of said Skyclan, who was padding too close for comfort to the border.

It was the third one that was the final straw for Cedarnose. Maybe Elmbreeze and Shellfrost’s deaths could be justified-- although he still felt guilty for both-- but Gingerwhisker hadn’t even passed the border!

Pitchfang was more than enraged when Cedarnose told him that he would tell everyone. He chased him through the trees, zigzagging, running into unfamiliar territory, passing dense bush, and down a steep fall.

Additional Information:

--Cedarnose deliberately lead him to the cliff, turning sometime in the bushes.

--Although cats don’t exactly have fall damage, the fall itself had a bunch of jagged rocks on the way down.