Move on, the elf could be dangerous

You can't tell if the elf is male or female, and lone elves are usually scouting or hunting, meaning they would be armed, and you don't even have a sharp stick to defend yourself with. You watch the elf for another minute, then hurry away. You balls are getting heavy--it'll only be a few hours more before they start to hurt.

You climb a small ridge and jog along the crest where the trees and underbrush are thinnest and the traveling fastest. On one side, you see a small valley with a wide, rushing river at the bottom. On the other, you see a deep ravine with steep, rocky sides.

After about half an hour, you hear a strange noise and stop, listening. Something in the valley catches your eye and you stare down at a beautiful, fair-skinned elf woman washing her long, blonde hair in the river and wearing just a simple, silvery slip over her lithe body, the silky material wet and clinging, revealing her dark, hard nipples and the swell of her small breasts. While she's alone, the camp site suggests she doesn't travel alone.

And she's not what was making the noise. On the other side, down in the ravine, you can hear a low, plaintive moaning, like that of an injured animal. You are a bit hungry, and it probably wouldn't hurt to grab a bite before you find your mate. You'll need the energy, and you imagine you'll be too busy fucking to do any hunting for a while.