Work Text:
Time: November 24th, 1990-something.
Setting: Havana, Cuba. A coastal shack, overlooking the straits of Florida.
**Not So Dry Feet: A Maria Attaway Story**
A young Cuban woman stares longingly north towards her destination. Maria Attaway, Olympian archer and Cuba's darling. Two silver medals, one gold. She'd heard whispers of a land further away, where her neighbors and countrymen had ventured, yet only few actually made it. A place where she could provide for herself.
She looked down at the round bump of a stomach, the work of a 33 weeks pregnancy, she now had. *And you too.* She thought to herself, before she tossed the life jacket on, wedged a paddle between the inside of the life jacket and her back, then hopped onto the jetski she had bought when she was 3 weeks pregnant.
2 weeks before she had got the jetski, a strange woman had come late at night. Like an angel, drifting down from the moon itself. She saw how talented Maria was, and had offered her the same thing that the faraway land had offered, but better.
She promised endless adventures. Constant action as a Hunter, acceptance among new sisters she could make, and a better life. The only catch?
*She would have to forfeit her baby.*
The woman would only accept maidens. And while she was already pregnant, she could make an acception, if she did not carry the baby to term. Maria refused, but offered her sister Ariana as a recruit. The woman was not pleased. She disappeared in a flash of pale white light, leaving her alone in the flower field.
With that unpleasant memory, Maria took one last look at the beaches of Cuba, and took the gamble. She started up the engine, and left everything she had ever known for a chance of a better life for her and her child.
**5 DAYS LATER.**
She had lived off raw tuna and mahi-mahi for the last 127 hours. Her last drop of coconut water was spent 18 hours ago. It had rained a few hours ago, and she had managed to catch some rainwater with her mouth and empty bottles, plus anything that could hold water. Her shoes. Her bra. You get it.
And finally, a patch of yellow sand appears in the distance. But this wasn't some random sand bar, or mirage. It grew as it got closer and closer, grew larger and larger. Huge, steel buildings rose in the night skyline, as vivid lights shone and strobed through windows. She had made it. Miami was within reach.
Suddenly, bright white lights lit up the sea. A boat, far off in the distance, switched on a light right on her. Immediately, she was filled with panic. She couldn't have come this far, just to be caught *now*.
She turns the key, using the last fumes the engine had in the tank and sped off. The people in the boat followed, but at a glacial pace compared to her. It was as if it was a half-hearted effort, like they *wanted* her to get to land. No matter the case, Maria Attaway just stomped on the gas harder, leaving foam in her wake. Her stomach tightened with hunger, but she buried it with her jaw clenched. Salvation was only that far.