Clint had established an extremely elaborate target practice area at the far end of the garden (he'd painted a yellow 'X' on a tree trunk) and was out there with his bow and arrows, making sure his night vision was up to scratch. It was, so far: every arrow had hit home somewhere along the yellow lines.
He had not, however, yet mastered the Disney's Robin Hood arrow-splitting trick. Alas. He'd totally be able to do it in daylight, he was--
--abruptly distracted by a shadow running out of the corner of his eye. What the hell? He swung his bow round to take aim, following the shadow's run, then frowned. Uh. Did England have big cats like that? He'd check Wikipedia on his phone, but, well, time travel. After a moment, he lowered his aim and decided to wait and see if it attacked anyone. No reason to shoot a harmless animal, even if it probably didn't belong in this country.