Bloda: Why Is My Life So Horrible?

Bloda, the clan representative in the Jamaasian Heroes, was a normal "clanner" in ShadowClan, but had one problem.
Since his original family had left him on the streets, Bloda had secretly looked for  his family, and found out Bloda was part-Mira... but his father was unknown. All his life, Bloda had thought it was Zios, but it was mostly wistful thinking. However, he was SURE Bloda's father had done SOMETHING horrible, as most of ShadowClan whispered and stayed away from him when he entered the camp after a long day of fighting phantoms. Sleeping on moss didn't really help Bloda. Bloda's clan name was Foxclaw, not that it mattered. Bloda would have traded the world just for some acceptance in his own Clan.
Gazing at the half-rotten bark on the log he slept in, Bloda felt pity for himself. A great warrior that fought for two causes, he should have gotten famous for his own effort! But nooooooo, they treated him like a hobo at a ball, despite Inkstar's efforts to make Bloda accepted, saying something about "being related" whenever Bloda questioned his actions. Nevertheless, Bloda was the fifth wheel.
An outsider in his own clan.
Despite having a rocky history with her own clan, IceClan, Frost had offered to join ShadowClan, to be refused and sent away... probably because of her relation to their outsider. In fact, by now Bloda had no idea why his Clanmates hadn't already ganged up on him and exiled Bloda to never walk Appondale soil again. Then again, after the most recent conflict, ShadowClan followed StarClan fiercely as they faced the dilemma Blackstar, so many moons ago, was up to his chin in. Snuggling some brambles around his sorry pelt to ward off the bitter night cold, he scratched the last hash mark off the side of the log, erasing every single stroke with a mere wipe of his paw, calling on Mira's powers... but he had swore not to use magic near a ShadowClan member once more, after Bloda had realized part of the reason his Clanmates loathed him was that he used "unnatural" magic.
Just as he let it sink in that the gathering was going to start the next day (Froststar was on his side but too shy to try to defend him, Inkstar his typical self, Thunderstar cold and menacing, Magicstar halfway decent, but the rest just took the opportunity to push him around), Bloda realized something, a quiet chill creeping up his tired spine.
His father was Clawstar, somehow attracting Mother Sky to his sorry, mangled pelt and leaving him in the streets for his own good.
Generous, for a feared tyrant. But how had Bloda realized that?
"Frost...I'm sorry... you warned me."
His half-sister had been urgently sending him dreams for a while now, saying something along the lines of 'Your father is a menace, but don't be carried down by his chilly legacy!', but he was stupid enough to push the notion away.
Now, it was as if a trillion-ton weight had been placed on his back and squished him, and he was alive enough to feel the sting of death. The cold claws digging into his very essence.
Bloda, under the cover of a hero destined to do great things, was a loony, if not worse, and was lying to his friends along to his destiny about what he was.
"I'm so condemned to fail my friends, I think I'll at least get an excuse to exile myself now." Bloda said, up to his ears in misery and self-pity.
Gazing at Silverpelt and wondering about the Dark Forest and StarClan, wondering if they also had a role to play in the third phantom war, Bloda quickly prayed to his ancestors, wishing a good life to the fallen Sleekstar and the now-dead Foulstar, then went over to the Highrock, ignoring the cicadas that were chirping despite the cold and slashed this into the place where Inkstar usually came up:

                                       I'm so horrible I just exiled myself.
With that, taking his store of food and other possessions, Bloda slunk into the tall savannah grass and darted to Frost's home, where he could at least seek advice and get a true home.