“One is most likely the Nemeton itself.” The question was, what could be warring for control of the Nemeton? Something that liked to cause trouble, but that hardly narrowed things down at all. Deaton was at a loss for ideas. He could try talking to others that knew about the tree and its powers, but those people were few and far between. The one that knew the most about it, Jennifer Blake, was deceased. He chocked it up to bad luck.
He supposed he should have counted himself and the others as being lucky. This newcomer, this woman, knew more about the Nemeton than a lot of the people currently trapped in Beacon Hills. Maybe her presence would bring more answers, possibly even a solution to their troubles. Deaton could hope, and he would hope.
“Would you like me to walk you to the apartments? We can still talk as we’re walking.” Deaton gave a small but warm smile at the woman. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Alan Deaton.” He wasn’t really certain what gestures would be appropriate or inappropriate to the woman, but he offered his hand for shaking. It seemed wise to make friends with her. It was always better to have intelligent people on one’s own side. Their gifts could always prove handy. More than that, Deaton was usually a friendly guy, anyway. The smiling and handshakes came naturally to him.