Persistence
It was unnerving to be stuck in the cramped spot, only able to watch and hope that she wasn't discovered. The lanky, elven man crouched down abnormally, standing on all fours before bringing his chest close to the ground, inspecting the blades of grass carefully.
Only when finally looking around the perplexing figure did she realize there were two more of the elven men–one was clung to a tree, inspecting its bark, hanging on nimbly like a spider with his long, thin arms.
Another was doing something that haunted the archmage: checking small crevices around the magically-formed forest, digging up small holes and checking behind bushes. This realization made the silver-haired woman's heart rapidly thump, realizing it was now inevitable her spot would be found.
Perfect hunters; this is what she was up against–a frightening force that seemed almost inhuman in their immaculate approach in hunting her down.