Hide and follow the elf

You need to be smart, lest find yourself a pile of ash at the High Elf's feet. Sinking into the brush and brambles, you wait for the elf to glance about and turn to glide up the hill opposite yours before rising to follow.

Back in the tribe of your birth, your mother often taught you to stalk boars and elk, deer and wolves. You had dwelt in a mountain village, one of many children though your mother had tried to give each a strong upbringing. You know how to stalk in snow and you stay back, treading softly and avoiding making any sound as the elf proceeds on his way.

He stops every so often, kneeling to touch a dying berry bush or a wilting flower or some other piece of foliage. Always the soft golden light restoring whatever it is to full health and strength. Once he stumbles on a doe with a broken leg, and did as he had for the sparrow mends her hurt and ends her on her way. You frown, a sparrow is one thing: yet the doe could have given good meat and a good pelt for the winter.

You realize after a time that he seeks these things out: from one point to the next he strides, one hurt to the next, sometimes with sharp turns that make you circle around to avoid getting detected. Yet as the sun starts to sink to the west, he seems to halt his searching and instead keep his walk to the south towards you realize a river which he then follows to a copse of trees, evergreens that cover a huge hilltop and from which the stream seems to steam. He disappears into the small forest without hesitation. Likely his home lays within.

This is your last chance to give up the hunt, following him now will likely mean a confrontation no matter what.