She was doing everything right, at least - practicing (without a "weapon" in hand), getting the feel of the motions, learning the way her muscles pulled and stretched as she did it. A big part of aim, Clint had learned long ago, was muscle memory, those motions being so ingrained in a body that other motions didn't interfere with them.

"Little like," he agrees, though for him it's more like throwing a knife. But he's thrown spears before, and that feeling is very similar, just much bigger, all through the body instead of just in the arm and shoulders. "You're not doing anything wrong, you just need practice. It's a space the size of a quarter about thirty feet away. Everyone needs time to get used to hitting it." Even he had, though with his abilities his time had been much, much shorter than anyone else he'd ever met. But Clint wasn't saying that, since she already seemed to have unrealistic expectations of how fast it'd go based on what he could do.