You hear a cry of pain as the arrow strikes something unseen, but the sound of the flying creature does not waver or change direction. Instead, it keeps receding from you until it is no longer heard.
You hurry on your way, down the southeast side of the ridge.
Three hours later you are down at the bottom of the ridge and back in dense woodland. You hear no more signs of pursuit.
Dawn comes all too soon, it seems. During the early morning hours the clouds moved off and the stars came out. December 26th dawns sunny and warm. All of you are exhausted, having been on the move for 24 hours, now. Birch is in particularily poor shape, having been led by the elves through the night over the ridge and through the woods. Nevertheless, he had stumbled and fallen over rocks and trees more than either you or Vanadil.
You find a deadfall of broken branches, crawl into it, post a watch and sleep.
By early afternoon you are feeling much more rested, and so cautiously continue on your way. When you crawl out of the deadfall you find the treants surrounding it, and the blink dogs dozing in the sun.
You set off again, and march until after dark.
The night passes quietly.