Softears, SC [AU]

It was a peaceful mid-afternoon in ShadowClan, the sky a forgiving blue and unmarked by dusky clouds. Greenleaf had been sweet to the clan of the pine forests and marshes: the fresh-kill pile was full, the camp peaceful and quiet, and the warriors peacefully sharing tongues during the hottest part of the day.

Unfortunately, peace never tended to last in ShadowClan.

The sounds of muffled shouts made the warriors look up. Two voices, the voices of two apprentice toms, rose above the thorny camp walls and slowly became more distinct. "-- just stop--" "Shut it, foxdung! What do you know about--?" "-- thought you really had a--" "--can't believe you're such a--" The warriors glanced at each other and shrugged, as two warriors, a furious tabby tom and a resigned black she-cat, carried their apprentices by their scruffs into camp. Both apprentices were large enough that their paws were dragging along the ground-- or maybe it was that their exhausted mentors' necks were too tired to carry them any higher, as each apprentice was still scrabbling futilely to scratch the other's eyes out.

"Fine, I'll say it again!" the black she-cat's black-and-white apprentice yowled. "Useless half-breed scum!" The entire camp fell silent, but the apprentices didn't seem to notice and only redoubled their efforts.
"You take that back, foxdung mousebrain crowfood!" the ginger tom howled, wriggling like a fish.
"Why?" his antagonist shot back. "You're filth! They should've called you Dirtpaw!"

The black she-cat finally gave up. Unceremoniously, she dropped her apprentice to the floor and, before he could leap free, planted one heavy forepaw on his back and the other on his head, slamming him into the earth. "Softears!" she bellowed in the ensuing silence. "Falconstar! Anyone! Sandpaw and Nightpaw would like a word."
"Several, preferably stern," she muttered under her breath as the apprentices, slightly more cowed by the mention of the leader and deputy's names, lapsed into hissing, tail-lashing silence. She was far too old for this nonsense. Vinethroat had been a respectable mentor to three of ShadowClan's warriors before, and Nightpaw had been shaping up well to follow in their footsteps-- until this afternoon, of course. As she would related to Softears as soon as he appeared, she and Mudstripe had planned to take the two troublemakers out for some sparring practice. It had all been going very well, until Nightpaw had taken it into his head to start teasing Sandpaw. Things had spiralled out of control from there. The warrior sighed, glancing back at Mudstripe. The brown tom caught her eye and shrugged, still clearly seething. She couldn't say that she particularly liked having Sandpaw, or his mother, in ShadowClan, but half-Clan or not, Sandpaw was a good apprentice and a promising ShadowClan warrior. StarClan knew there were few enough of those. Unfortunately, both toms had gotten some heavy scratches in before their mentors had been able to wrestle them apart, and Nightpaw now had a ragged hole torn through his left ear. Never in all her born days had she seen so much stupidity from any apprentices anywhere: this took top prize for idiocy.

Softears ~ 67 ~ Tom ~ Deputy

Softears had been sitting in the Warriors den for the last few minutes. Many had assumed the mostly-mute cat just clocked out for a bit every day. It seemed like he never blinked and breathing didn't seem to be in his vocabulary during these sessions either. What no-one knew was that he put thought into his patrol groups days in advance. In fact, at this particular moment, he had been deciding who would be going tot he Gathering next week. Of course, there was always the chance that somecat would do something terrible and be taken off the list. But that was why he planned so far in advance. He had plenty of time to swap cats around as their behavior permitted.

After a few moments, he blinked silently and glanced from his paws up to the clearing. There were shouts already audible (to him, not many others) from outside of the camp. "-- just stop--" "Shut it, foxdung! What do you know about--?" "-- thought you really had a--" "--can't believe you're such a--" He stood as the pair of yowling kits were dragged into camp. Their shouts now echoed across the camp for everyone. "Useless half-breed scum!" "You take that back, foxdung mousebrain crowfood!" "Why? You're filth! They should've called you Dirtpaw!" He stood, the anger starting to boil up. Luckily for the kits, that was one of Softears' tallents. Hiding his anger.

The black she-cat's bellow echoed across the clearing in her sheer desperation to be done with the two kits. "Softears! Falconstar! Anyone! Sandpaw and Nightpaw would like a word." He trotted casually over to the four cats. Not a sound slipped passed him as he loomed over the two smaller cats. He spent quite a long time looking at each tom in turn. After what could have easily been an entire moon to the troublemakers. He looked up at the mentors. He knew they had gone out to do some training and he could guess the events of the session. When he did speak, his voice was calm and piercing; "Please follow me. Mudstripe, Vinethroat, thank you for your service today. Without you I am sure these two kits would have killed eachother." He stood and started away from the crowd of cats who had gathered to watch the kits get in trouble.

Softears preferred most of his conversations to be private. Despite the fact that the two toms clearly didn't care if their words carried to the entire Clan, Softears respected the other cats enough not to bring up such private and sensitive matters in public. He didn't particularly care if the mentors followed. If they were done with their apprentices for now, he would completely understand, however he did want to hear their sides of the stories as well as their thoughts on a punishment. He moved silently to a small patch of marshy grass behind the nursery where there wasn't a lot of room for other curious cats to snoop. He indicated the ground in front of him for the kits to stand as he took a seat across from them.

He looked to Sandpaw first. He quite liked the small tom and his mother and had never found either of the half-Clanners to be a problem. "Sandpaw. What happened?"