Herbalists' Cache and made Verona's ancient citizens

Half-remembered images danced through her skull, the glowering eye carved into the trunk flash the sky tearing as easily as a leaf flash a carcass expanding and growing and dissolving into a hundred butterflies. She picked her way through the forest she had resided in for some time now, passing sometimes along the way the cache of drugs and herbs she kept ever so carefully tended. 

Quite suddenly there was the girl, the girl and her acorns. She blamed the suddenness of the realization that another inhabited her space to the fact that she concentrated so on the images, desperately committing them to memory. But rather it took the oracle some time to fully remove herself from the drug's hold, even if she believed it to be (mostly) under her control. She stopped, silent and staring, half shaded by the trees, wondering if the girl held any importance. She certainly had not Seen her. Or, perhaps, she had.