This is my entry for the December 2013 FroggyClan Writing Challenge. Enjoy!

Also, and I looked it up, cats can cry tears, mostly out of disturbance to the eyes or pain, like our eyes water from pain. They don't use them for emotional purposes, but they do have tears. They may not use them in exactly the same way I use them here, but use your imagination! A lot of things that cats do in Warriors, they don't do in real life. :P

On that note... I hope you like it. :)

STARLIT TEARS

He was running down a long, dark tunnel, panic rising in his chest. The darkness was engulfing him, and he cursed the circumstances that had put him here. If only he had stayed back home!

Nightpelt knew that his panic was wrong. He should be glad that Brokenstar's tyranny was over! But the tunnels of Highstones had always frightened him, and he had never, in all his visits, actually touched the impressive, glowing Moonstone.

But Nightpelt knew he was the right cat to lead ShadowClan— perhaps the only cat who could lead the broken, helpless cats that Brokenstar had left. He only wished that the cruel, heartless leader had not been so evil. If Brokenstar had been kind and peaceful instead, everyone would have been better off.

Nightpelt felt Runningnose brush up against him in the darkness and took a deep breath to calm himself. At long last, there was a glimmer of light in the tunnel ahead. The Moonstone!

His heart beat ever faster, panic turning into anticipation. Nightpelt's mind cleared, and he straightened, walking toward the light with a newfound purpose. Behind him, he heard Runningnose let out an audible sigh of relief, and he flicked an ear slightly, embarrassed that he had made the respected medicine cat worried with his anxiety.

The light grew greater and brighter until Nightstar had to squint to be able to see properly. A little watery tear squeezed its way out of his left eye from the pressure he was putting on his lids, and he lessened his squinting slightly, the tear rolling down his short-furred face and landing on the ground with a splash, fracturing into a million little droplets. It looked like falling starlight in the blinding shine of the Moonstone.

Abruptly, Runningnose stopped beside him, flinging out his tail to halt Nightpelt. The black-furred tom hissed in surprise, digging his claws into the earthy soil beneath him to stop him from carrying on forward with his momentum.

Runningnose dipped his head to his new leader, then gestured for Nightpelt to lay down in front of the Moonstone and press his nose to the great, shining outcrop of rock.

Swallowing back his apprehension, Nightpelt did as ordered. As soon as his nose touched the cold, hard stone, his fur stood on end as an electric-like shock of power coursed through him, and then darkness washed over him.

He was cold. That was his predominant thought, the shocking, mind-numbing cold that clutched his body and froze his heart. He was cold, and it was dark. He could not move— if he did, he would shatter into a thousand pieces.

Nightpelt did not know how long he lay with his nose pressed to the stone and his vision black. It seemed like ages— as if moons and seasons were passing while he lay in agony. At last, the cold and dark grew so severe that he could not stand it any longer. Where were StarClan? Would they leave him in this awful misery forever?

Nightpelt opened his eyes in defiance, and immediately sprang to his feet in surprise. All around him was the forest, ShadowClan territory, the familiar pines and marshes shading him and wetting his paws. Scents drifted through the air— the aroma of prey, the scent of his Clan, the murky smell of the marsh, and just a hint of crowfood from the far-off Twoleg carrionplace.

Stars shone above him, and alongside the sacred lights hung the faintly glowing moon, just a sliver of a claw at this time of moon. And then Nightpelt let out a gasp of shock as the stars began to spiral downward, falling toward him like a rain of starry tears. The cascade of stars grew closer and closer to him and the ground of ShadowClan territory, and Nightpelt gasped in wonder.

As the blinding lights grew closer and became more distinct, Nightpelt saw that each was a cat, warriors of Starclan with pelts blazing and shining with glimmers of starlight. He flattened himself to the marshy ground, eyes wide with wonder.

Familiar scents drifted up to him— his mother and father, both dead for many moons, his mentor, friends who had passed... Suddenly, Nightpelt's fears vanished and he purred quietly, glad to be back in the presence of his loved ones. Strength flowed through him, and all doubts faded into the mist of the marsh. He at last felt ready to receive his nine lives.

But as his starry-pelted ancestors assembled before him, Nightpelt's assurance turned to uneasiness. No cat stepped forward to greet him, no warm purrs welcomed him. The cats of StarClan simply stared at him. Some had neutral expressions, others frowned slightly. None looked happy, and Nightpelt could not spot his friends amongst the crowd, though their scents drifted tantalizingly through the air.

At long last, a dark-furred warrior stepped forward, saying in a deep, lilting voice, "Why have you come?"

His voice was choral and musical, and if not for his dreadful message, Nightpelt would have relaxed at the sound of that wonderful noise. As it was, his fur bristled, and he replied in a shocked cry, "What do you mean? Brokenstar is gone! I am the new leader of ShadowClan! I have come to receive my nine lives!"

The chill of the night penetrated his ragged coat, and his old bones creaked and ached in protest. Nightpelt had been an elder before he had come to receive his nine lives, and while he was still the youngest of all the elders and strong enough to lead, he he had many moons to his name, and he was feeling it now. Why was StarClan not welcoming him?

The tom with the melodious voice gave him a disapproving look that silenced his protests immediately.

"Nightpelt of ShadowClan, do you know who I am?" the dark-furred tom asked in that musical voice.

Mutely, Nightpelt shook his head.

"In my life, I was Robincall of RiverClan," the tom said. "I was an influential speaker and very popular in my Clan, but I was also very self-centered and arrogant. I thought I could rule RiverClan, and when our deputy died in battle and our leader retired to the elder's den with three lives yet, I bullied her into making me the next leader." Here he paused and looked Nightpelt straight in the eye. "When the medicine cat and I reached Highstones, and then the Moonstone, I was certain that StarClan would accept me readily."

Nightpelt shifted slightly, unsure as to how Robincall's story related to him. As if reading his mind, the dark-furred tom continued in his beautiful, choral voice, "The reaction of our warrior ancestors was the same as it is to you now."

And then the multitude of starry-pelted cats rose to their paws and said in a swelling chorus, "The leader of your Clan still lives: the lives we gave him still flow through his veins, giving him strength and power to lead. No matter what he has done, you must return to your Clan with only as many lives as he has lost: and Brokenstar of ShadowClan has nine lives yet."

"We do not strip you of the life your mother gave you," another tom said. "That is yours to keep."

"I received six lives that day, and returned to Riverclan as Robinstar, much humbled and sincere," Robinstar cried out above the hum of StarClan. "We name you Nightstar of ShadowClan, the leader of one life."

"Lead, guide, and protect your Clan," a she-cat called out to him.

"We cannot give you lives, but we will guide your pawsteps all the same," Robinstar yowled. "Nightstar!"

"Nightstar! Nightstar! Nightstar!" The other cats joined in Robinstar's cheering, chanting his name, but still there was an ominous, minor note in their yowls. Nightstar was dazed and shocked. How could this have happened? Had other leaders— besides Robinstar, that was— gone through the same thing during their ceremony? Had there ever before been a leader that had not received any lives from StarClan?

Soon the warriors of StarClan began to fade, spiralling back up into the night sky. Nightstar shook himself out of his stupor, yowling up at them, "Wait! Wait! No! Brokenstar is a tyrant! Surely his lives can be taken away and given to me?"

But the starry-furred warriors were oblivious to his cries, and Nightstar was left shouting to the sparkling sky. The lights of Silverpelt twinkled and glimmered like starlit tears, doing an almost merry dance across the sky, almost as if they were laughing at him, which only further angered the newest ShadowClan leader.

Behind him, there was a light chuckle. Nightstar turned, fur fluffed up in anger, to see Robinstar, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I felt the same as you," he said, sounding wise and venerable. At this point, Nightstar didn't care. He was very angry. He wanted what he had been promised, and, out of wild rage, he leapt at the former RiverClan leader with a screech.

Surprised, Robinstar didn't move fast enough to avoid him. But the dark-furred tom was larger than Nightpelt and quickly had him flipped over on his back, defenseless. Nightpelt lay still, horrified that he had acted so rashly. A glint of anger was in Robinstar's eyes, but the StarClan tom's next words were polite, if a little strained.

"Nightstar, you must return to your Clan," he said softly. "StarClan cannot take away Brokenstar's lives and give them to you, no matter how much we wish we could. It was rash of you to attack a cat of StarClan, and you would be good to never do it again."

Nightstar nodded mutely. Robinstar suddenly bared his pointed teeth in a mischievous grin.

"To make sure that you never forget your misdeed, I will give you a little scar," he said in his lilting, musical voice. Then he released one paw from where it was pinning Nightstar down and quickly slashed it across his captive's nose.

Nightstar let out a cry of pain as blood blossomed on his soft, pink nose. Two tears of pain leaked out of his eyes and onto Robinstar's starry paw. The dark-furred tom looked at the salty droplets with slight interest as the twinkling stars in his pelt shone through the clear water.

"Starlit tears," he mused. "How interesting— I don't think any cat has cried in StarClan before, Nightstar. You may just be the first."

Then, laughing, he leaped upwards and joined the rest of StarClan in the sky, leaving Nightstar shocked and confused.

At the edge of his vision, the marsh began to fade, and he drifted back into wakefulness, a cold feeling of dread sinking in his chest. What would he tell Runningnose? What would he tell ShadowClan? Would the Clan still accept him as leader if he had not received his nine lives? On top of all his worries, his nose stung, but not so much as his pride stung. Robinstar's remark about him being the first to cry in StarClan had wounded him, as well as every other thing his warrior ancestors had said.

When he finally awoke, he found his nose still bleeding, and, what was more, still pressed to the Moonstone. Blood now stained the otherwise perfect and holy stone, the glow fading as the moon changed positions.

Runningnose gave him a worried look as Nightstar turned around and fled back to the darkness of the caverns of Highstones, but said nothing until they reached fresh night air.

"How did it go?" the medicine cat inquired.

Nightstar looked away. "Brokenstar is still alive, with all nine of his lives."

There was a short silence, broken by Runningnose asking, "And...?"

"And StarClan didn't give me any lives!" he cried out, whirling on the shocked medicine cat.

Runningnose's eyes widened in disbelief, but he said nothing. The two toms sat in silence for a few minutes, until the gray tom said softly, "We cannot tell the Clan."

"I know," Nightstar said in a voice throbbing with pain.

"Why are you bleeding, Nightpelt?" Runningnose asked.

"They did name me a leader," he growled in reply. "I am Nightstar now."

"Nightstar," the medicine cat said with a sigh.

"I picked a fight with a StarClan warrior," he mumbled. "I realize how rash it was now, so don't rebuke me. I've already been scolded."

Runningnose said nothing, though his eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging gently open. Nightstar turned away again, burning with shame. He lifted a paw to dab carefully at his wound. It was very shallow, but Robinstar had said it would leave a scar. He had received much worse injuries in battle, but this was, in a way, the most horrible of all, because it was his pride that was wounded above all.

The bleeding, which had slowed to a sluggish flow, started afresh at the disturbance. One last tear of pain crept across Nightstar's face and landed with a splash onto the ground. The starlight from above glimmered on the droplets, and it truly did look starlit in the moments before sinking into the ground.

Nightstar got up, sighing. He turned back to Runningnose and said heavily, "We must return to ShadowClan. I am their leader now, no matter how many lives I have or do not have."

"Yes, Nightstar," Runningnose said with respect, though his gaze was troubled. And then Nightstar turned once more and started across the moor. He had a Clan in need of assurance back in his territory, and no matter how many starlit tears had been shed that night, he was the leader of ShadowClan, and they could count on him to fight for them until his last, dying breath.