You take an ax from one of the wagons and stride confidently to the tree beneath which the woman sits. Setting your feet firmly on the ground, you draw back the ax and swing.
With an ear-splitting crack, the head of the ax explodes with such force that you are knocked from your feet and left sprawling in the mud.
As you recover yourself, you see that the woman is awake and on her feet. "Who are you?" she says. "Who would harm the Father of the Wood?"
"I am Basileios, and we mean you no harm," you reply. "We only sought to wake you, to discover more about where we are."
She studies you for a moment longer, then seems to relax. "I am Lillian," she says, "a defender—the only defender—of this place." She gestures about her. "This used to be woodland, and this oak, the Father of the Wood, was at its heart. Now it stands on the edge of this festering swamp that seems to grow larger each year. The tree's magic is still strong, though, and I try as best I can to be an outlet for that strength."