The last time he had seen her, she had been hurtling down the road, but he had a sense of these kinds of chases. As soon as the black riders had peeled away, Will had doubled back and tore his way through the brush to reach the old mill and the creek. It wasn't an area he was too familiar with, but the tail end of the stream was close by the inn, and so he figured it was his best bet. Running into Emmeralda in a crash of flesh was not exactly how he had figured to valiantly find her, but it would do.

His head plunged under the water, and with her weight, it took him a few seconds before he could gasp for air again. 

"Sorry! Sorry!" Emmeralda professed.

"Damn, girl!" He complained, his cloak and trousers soggy, not to mention his whole head. He got an eyefull of her soaking chest, the clothing clinging to her soft skin. It only took him by surprise for a second, though, and he pushed her up and helped himself to his feet. The day was cool, the rain was cold, but the creek water was frigid. Will coughed up some of the drink, but he was none the worse for wear. He shook his head like an old hound, but noticed her fatigued look. He softened. "Are you alright?" 

She nodded, appreciating the question. Within seconds she was back to her salacious, sybilline self. "Takes more than a few blackguards to get rid of me," she boasted in jest. Will's eyes widened, which was the only warning Emmeralda got before Will pulled her down and spun. The saber of the cloaked figure cut across Will's shoulder, Will eliciting a yelp in pain after having flung himself in the way of the blow to protect her. Idly, he realized the cut would not have been fatal to her, and was likely aimed to wound and disorient, but when Will got in the way, it had been intended to cause more damage. Luckily his heavy cloak and jerkin kept him from the worst of it. 

A fistful of gravel and sediment was thrown into the man's face, Emmeralda obviously too flummoxed to have any magical tricks ready on the fly. He cried out and grabbed at his eyes with one hand, flailing his sword with the other. However, even with the wound, Will was deadly with his blade. It was out of the scabbard in the blink of an eye, and Emmeralda watched him parry a wild swing, and she covered her eyes just before he killed the man with a thrust to the neck. When she peeked again, the figure was half in the water, red seeping into the creek. She saw Will grimace as he rolled his shoulder, softly cursing in his native tongue. The overcast of the day gave him the forlorn look of a wounded wolf. 

"Are you alright?" She asked, echoing his words from not minutes ago. 

"Aye, I'm good." He assured her with a pained grin. "Let's not wait for them to come back, aye? Got us a horse, by the way. Seems you went horse thievin' on your own."  

"I am a self made woman, after all." She joked, and they kept close as Will escorted her to the black gelding. The horse seemed calm, and Will insisted he helped her onto the steed. She tried to take the reins, but gave a squeak as the horse kicked for a moment. Will grabbed the reins with a quick hand, smirking. "You're not stealin' this one, gypsy."