Author's Notes: Thank you for all the reviews. I'm glad everyone is liking this "story." The quotes are there because it's really more of snippets that don't really flow together. I do hope that as they progress people can begin to see the changes that Tim goes through especially as he begins to repeat exercises (for example, this is his second throwing lesson).

Thank you again each and everyone one of you!

………

Target Practice

December:

For the twentieth time Tim watched his bat-a-rang fly a good two feet to the side of the target. He held in the curse and, instead, stomped over the snow piles to retrieve the black object.

His training for the day was going miserably. When he came to the Manor, Alfred handed him a shoe box filled with four bat-a-rangs and a note from Bruce instructing him to go out back and practicing aiming and hitting the target that was set up.

"He isn't going to tell me how to use them first, is he?"

The butler gave a soft smile and said, "I believe he wishes you to figure that out."

"Of course."

Tim headed out back without another word. It wasn't until he reached the backyard that he realized Bruce wanted him to throw bat-a-rangs (which he didn't know exactly how to handle) at a target outside in December. Shaking his head, Tim looked at the vast whiteness of snow that lay before him. In perfect timing, a biting breeze hit Tim in the face full force. The teenager found the targets and the giant 'X' Bruce had made about 100 feet away.

Attempting to forget the cold, Tim grabbed his first bat-a-rang and let it fly. Unlike the twentieth bat-a-rang that he had just released, the first one traveled a mere foot before falling pitifully to the ground. Five bat-a-rangs in, Tim finally realized how to throw one to get it to travel any distance. By the tenth he had learned how to throw them so that they flew well over the target. By the fifteenth he had worked out how to control the distance. And now he had to learn to control the direction.

It was on the 35th bat-a-rang that he finally heard the thud of it hitting the hay target. It didn't stick (rather bounced off rather uneventfully), but to the teenager that didn't matter. The other three bat-a-rangs followed that one, all of which bounced off the target.

Tim let out of whoop of victory and laughed to himself.

"Hitting the target alone isn't enough."

Tim jumped at the sound of Bruce's voice behind him and turned quickly to stare at the older man guiltily.

"You have to know where to hit, how much force to put behind it, and how to control every movement of the 'rang."

Bruce pulled his own weapon from a pocket and Tim watched in amazement as it flew gracefully through the air towards of one of the trees that sat off in the distance. It hit a leaf (one Tim could barely make out) and then struck in a branch with the leaf pinned against the bark.

"You've been out here five hours and it's cold. Go inside."

Tim continued to stare at the tree and then back at the target he had been hitting weakly.

"No," he said and heard Bruce's steps stop. "Show me."

With his back to the teenager, Bruce smiled.