Barbut? That's Barbut?
Harlon squinted fiercely, blinking against the salt-crusted air, but his sight was nowhere near as sharp as Karlin's in the dark. All he could truly discern was the harsh, flickering orange of the distant flame and the blurry, misshapen silhouette of a face bathed in the torchlight.
Still, instinct took over. He braced his palms against the pebbles, making to rise to his feet, until Karlin's hand suddenly shot out like a striking viper, grabbing him firmly by the nape of the neck and slammed him right back down onto the stony beach. It hurt, the rough, unyielding stones clashing painfully against his cheek and scraping his skin.
"Are you mad? Stay down!" Karlin hissed into his ear, his fingers digging into Harlon's collar as he dragged them both into a flat, prone position against the earth.
