Rosita lugged her water buckets over the last rise and set them on the grass. Resting her attention on the Kekchi Indian village, she noticed something unusual. Among the normal evening sounds of dogs barking and insects buzzing, were unfamiliar voices. Rosita stood silent, listening. It sounded like singing, coming from the direction of the river. The singing reminded Rosita of church, but it was different. This singing did not match the somber mood of dimly lit chambers, smoking incense, and candlelight flickering on the images of saints. Overhead, the wind whistled through the tall cohune palms. She glanced up. Wind in the cohunes often announced a change of weather. Could cohunes signal more than just changes in the weather? Based on a girl's experiences in the Mayan mountains of Belize.