She waited with her grandmother, from the bushes watching. The researchers crept forth across the milpa, gathering and collecting samples of the bushes cultivated here for centuries. The crude pilapa housing, a palace to them, was easily looked over by the researchers, who quickly decided nothing of value was there. Just an old fire hearth, some rocks molded as cooking utensils, and dried beans soaking in an old earthen pot.
‘What do we do, Grandmother?’ she asked.
‘Nothing, child. Now we wait.’