r.i.p to my youth <<>> mercy mikaelson

fourteen

| guilt (n): a feeling of having done wrong or failed in an obligation |

TOKALA WASN'T A paranoid guy—if anything, he was just the right amount of paranoid in order to survive as long as he has. And while he was in the bayou, looking after the new hybrid, Henry, he didn't think he had anything to be worried about. The wolves were loyal to Mercy—especially after she protected Henry from Marcel—and since she was gone, Tokala had to keep everything situated.

But he never would've expected her to get hurt when she left the bayou to retrieve her mother.

It had barely been five minutes since he saw her, and then he felt it. A burning sensation ran through his throat and down his veins, and he gritted his teeth, recognizing the herb and understanding that Mercy was in trouble. His heart unintentionally sped up, eyes widening at the prospect of something happening to her. She was smart, and extremely good at fighting, but if they snuck up on her like he was guessing they did, then Mercy needed Tokala's help. He could feel her fear, her distress, and it was the first time in a long time that he was terrified.

He stumbled away from Henry, who was sucking down his third bloodbag in the last fifteen minutes. The girl that was watching over the new hybrid—Lisina was her name—stood up at the movement. Tokala was breathing heavily, running his hand through his hair as a nervous habit. He could still feel Mercy's emotions, but they were fading away with her consciousness. He knew that she wouldn't last much longer, and he glanced up at the woman as she called his name.

"Tokala, what's wrong?" She asked, eyes so full of confusion that he almost laughed at it. What's wrong? It was a stupid question.

Everything was wrong.

But he answered with only a single word. "Mercy." And then he vanished out of the bayou, heading straight toward the hotel that Klaus and Jordyn had settled at. He couldn't feel Mercy's connection anymore, and so he ran faster, sweat covering his face and chest when he finally reached the hotel room.

He was banging on the door without realizing it, and when the wooden panel opened up and he saw Klaus's face, Tokala didn't bother with a sarcastic comment. The situation was too dire to start joking around.

"Tokala?" Klaus asked, his face transforming from annoyance to confusion at the state the boy was in. Tokala didn't blame him; he probably looked like a mess. He was sweaty and leaning against the doorframe, having ran here in approximately twelve seconds in order to get here with enough time.

"Mercy," he gasped, and Klaus's face immediately transformed into one of worry. "She's gone, I—I can't... Something's happened—"

"Tokala?" A feminine voice joined the conversation, and the werewolf boy's blue eyes shot to hers. Jordyn was a kind woman, and he could see her compassion in the way that her face became concerned at his appearance. "What's going on?"