She had been there at the mass rally at the university the week before the struggle began to overthrow the regime.
He had been there, too.
Their voices joined together with the voices of hundreds and thousands of students, campesinos, professors, and rebel leaders and rumbled across the night sky to the furthest reaches of the island.
"We ask for a fair price for beans and rice! We ask for schools for our children! We ask for care from doctors and hospitals when we are sick! We ask for work so we can build up these things for our people because we need them to live...we need them to live!"
It was then that he had seen her for the first time.
Her fist was clenched and raised to the sky, her hair hung down along her back, her brown eyes glistened under the lights of the field where they shouted and sang their hopes and dreams for their country, for their poor families, for their people.
Out of all the people there around him, she was the one...the one his eyes could not leave...the one his heart could not forget.
He knew then that their courage and compassion would draw them together and bond them as friends and lovers.
In those first days, he thought of what it might feel like to be with her, to feel her hunger for his body, for her to feel his hunger for hers...to be with her, to hear the stories of her childhood, to share the stories of his...to be with her as they were together now, naked and holding each other, protecting each other, loving each other.
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