Will felt oddly safe, at least for the moment. He let his hand run along the wall, but the candles in the room flared to life at once, Will seeing Emmeralda finishing a small movement of her hands. As if in a dance, she stepped into the shadows, disappearing into the darkness only to impossibly appear just beside him. Will flinched and nearly yelped in alarm, Emmeralda clearly amused at surprising him. 

"Is this how you-" he began, but he nearly swooned, and her amusement turned to concern as she watched him nearly teeter over. She grabbed at his jerkin. 

"When was the last you slept?" She asked, grabbing his chin and turning his head as if she had known him for longer than a mere day. 

"Two days," he breathed. "But I don't think that's the problem." 

He opened his cloak, and Emmeralda's eyes widened at the blood caked shirt. She gave a small squeak at the state of him. The gypsy ushered him over to a small, disheveled cot and bade him sit down. He did as he was told, and she pulled up a chair before she helped strip him of his shirt and cloak. Fortunately, while he had bled a fair amount, the cut wasn't deep. The way it looked, it appeared to be a cut from when they had first met, not the second time he had saved her. The thought had her attentive and gentle. She poured a small bit of alcohol she had stashed underneath the cot on his wound, and other than a small intake of breath, he didn't complain. 

He took it from her gingerly when she was done, and took a swig of the whiskey as she dressed the wound and wrapped it up. Despite how tired he was, he felt his heart race a small bit faster as her soft hands slipped around him as she did her work. 

"Thank you," he said, tiredly. 

"Hush, you've saved my life twice. If I did not help, the evil eye would be upon me." Emmeralda said, but after a moment she raised an eyebrow and gave a deadpan: "Bit too late for that, actually." 

Will burst out in laughter, but after a moment a spike of pain caused him to groaned achingly. "Oh lass, doon' maek me lauff." His accent prominent from how exhausted he was. 

"Sorry," she confessed, though she giggled regardless. "So, who are you? Who are you, really?" 

There was a pause as Will tried to figure out what to say. 

"Names the same. I'm..." he took a deep breath, moving the fringe of his hair out of his eyes. "I was a soldier. I was a young man in the clans when the King called for us, and I spent six years in the war. I saw things that..." He turned and looked at her. "Dark things. I saw...corpses move. I heard trees whisper. I once saw a beast that shouldn't be real. And there I knew, I wasn't fighting one war. I was fighting many, and we all are, whether we know it or not. I left the isle after our defeat. The damn goats had won, and I traveled as a sailor and privateer, but I came back when village shaman told me of darkness spreading the isle where I lost me heart. A darkness that would be arriving in less than two days from now, and then three hags told me to find you." She watched him intently, having finished the bandages, though her hand still lingered on his skin. 

"Couldn't tell if you were a part of the darkness, or a victim." He gave her a tired grin. "I think at this point, I know which."