"It's gonna sting some," rasps Charlie, uninvolved and entirely too late, as he pokes the fire.

If he'd not hesitated then he could've gone forwards instead of back, used his greater weight against Arthur. Used a can as a weapon, or gone for the knife. An elbow, a rock, a piece of bone. Bodied him into the wall of the cabin. Started to eat him while he was still alive.

He's unconsciously massaging his throat, stressed. Shutting down each thought like it's a full time job. He's been in fights since the Dreamlands, but not like that.