It'd taken way more time than he wanted it to. Ever since he'd awoken from his hungover stupor and his brain had cleared enough to realize that Wanda wasn't there - or, more precisely, when she hadn't come back on the night she'd run away - Clint had been looking for her. She'd left Arado and there were plenty of her clothes and other possessions for the dog to get a scent from, but the cold was working against them and the general lack of specific tracking training was a major hindrance. Clint had trained Arado to help him hunt, and while this sort of fell under the umbrella, it was just enough different that it turned up null.

Until he saw her, over a week later. That week had been filled with worry verging on actual terror; no one had come to find him to identify her body, and her clothes and other things she'd appeared with hadn't vanished, so she was still alive and still in the village. But Clint couldn't find her. He was feeling horrible for being so caught up in brooding that he missed any clues she'd given about why she'd run off, and why she hadn't returned. He'd barely been sleeping, and he'd only been eating because he knew that he couldn't keep searching for her if he didn't have fuel. So when he saw her on the roof, he wasted no time in running straight into the inn and up the stairs. He could get through one of the windows and up there quickly-

"Wanda!" he yelled as he climbed onto the roof.