#slothclaw

Aliases / Nicknames: ??

Gender: tom

Sexuality: ??

Family: Redfoot (mother), Tapirjump (father), Deerfoot (sister), Dogclaw (grandfather)

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, Applejump, Blueflame (friends)

Clan: GrassClan

Rank: elder (early retirement)

Characteristics: loves his sister, his mama and papa, and his friends, a medical mess

Murder Motive: vengeance

Number of Victims: 1

Number of Murders: 1

Murder Method: chewing face off

Known Victims: Dewleaf

Victim Profile: SteamClan warrior

Cause of Death: complications from Acromegaly

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

He was born premature. A full moon premature. The medicine cat had said that he was a miracle, some blessing from StarClan. He liked that. Even though he didn’t know what they looked like, he liked the stories that Applejump and Blueflame told him, about how his grand-pops was up there fighting bush dogs even now. He liked that.

He liked a lot of things.

The scent of apples.

His big sister, Deerfoot, who curled around him when he was too little to regulate heat.

His Mama, Redfoot, who had the same suffix as Deerfoot, because Termitestar, for all her battle-hardened glory, could never be accused of being creative.

His Papa, Tapirjump, who everyone said was even bigger than he was!

He liked his friends, and the scent of flowers, and the apprentices who always spoke slowly to him so he could process the words. He even liked most of the other Clans, even though they smelled weird to him.

But he did not like StreamClan.

No, they were bullies, he knew. Always threatening to take more territory than they needed for their small Clan, and they always fought turf wars! But Slothclaw didn’t mind too much. He was safe in the elders' den--Termitestar said that he wouldn’t be safe as a warrior, so he got to graduate early! He was safe in the elders' den when StreamClan attacked that night, a swarm of blurry, dark shapes and scathing yowls piercing the sky.

He cowered--despite his size, despite everything he cowered--he was afraid, and Blueflame and Applejump kept him safe until the end, until, with a slick, wet noise, they were gone. Gone, gone, gone and the cat in the entrance was pausing, watching him, then said something that would haunt him till his dying day, waking him up in nights to come, though he could not know why.

“Great StarClan… all that size and you aren’t even fighting? Pathetic.”

He had hissed as best as he could--Mama told him it was rude to hiss, or growl, or say mean things, but in that moment, smelling his enemy, he knew one thing with absolute clarity.

He would kill this cat.

He did not have the words for it, perhaps. Did not know, could not say what prompted the seeping tide of venom to blossom in his veins, but he hated him with every fiber of his being, and he swore an oath to Applejump and Blueflame that he would kill this monster once he finished growing. Once he got big enough to fight.

The battle was over quickly, too quickly, and they buried their dead, but Slothclaw sat alone.

In the coming moons, he started growing in earnest. Bigger than his Clanmates again by half at eighteen moons, the medicine cat was shocked at his growth, and when his Clan reluctantly took him to Gatherings, it seemed that everyone had something to say about it. About his clubbed jaw, the extra toes, the too small eyes. He had no idea about any of it!

He ignored the comments, and just kept growing, till he reached a size that even his Papa commented on.

Then it was time.

He snuck out at dawn, through the dirtplace tunnel, and then wandered until he smelled that cat, that horrible cat who had taken his friends, and he followed the scent, stalking StreamClan, trying to gauge which warrior was which through his clouded eyes, and the blood rushing in his ears.

But finally, he found the cat. The deputy! The deputy should know better than to kill a cat! To kill a cat was the job of warriors, a deputy should be better! But this was obviously not a good deputy. And so he needed to go.

He waited in the tree above the StreamClan dirtplace for about three days, waiting, listening, until finally he got a glimpse of that silvery pelt, and he jumped down, all 32 pounds of him crashing onto the terrified cat below. He bit then, sunk his teeth in, and started chewing, biting, anything to stop the noises, the horrible noise. The dirtplace was far enough from the camp that no one heard the commotion, but he still worked quickly, continuing to chew till the struggling stopped, 'till he tasted brain.

Then he fled. Back to the underbrush, back towards his Clan, back to safety.

His Clanmates were frantic, and swarmed him, asking question after question. He didn’t answer, just kept on clenching and unclenching his jaw.

Additional Information:

--Submission by @ambitiousauthor

--Base by Supurrnovae on DeviantArt

--His dad, Tapirjump, was 28 pounds.

--He’s mostly blind.

--His name is a reference to a sloth (color + didn’t move much as a kit) and his design references the sloth bear, which is known to bite faces off.

--The reason why he went to the Dark Forest is because StarClan viewed the crime as premeditated.