"Erm..." Tulin blinked repeatedly, staring at the arrow that was stuck in a tree. Seven whole feet from the target. "...so, maybe you're still holding it wrong?" He offers hopefully, chuckling awkwardly as he flits over to fix your arm positioning. "There. Try it now." You nock another arrow and send it flying, but this time it flies through the trees and lands in the snow.

He's fighting the urge to facepalm. You were so good at swordfighting. Claymores? No problem. Spears? You bet you can handle that. But you were absolutely, positively hopeless at archery. No matter who taught you, you just couldn't pick it up. You missed horribly every time you attempted to hit a target, your position kept slipping...

"Oh boy." Tulin rubbed his face. "This is gonna take a while."