A small pull at your sheets rouses your head from pillow and you look to the foot of your bed. What could it have possibly been? A small animal caught in your room? Your mind playing tricks on you?
It tugs again, the dressings of your bed visibly shifting. Something is in the room with you.
Natasha jerks awake, convinced that she felt something moving. Her gun’s in her hand, aimed at the empty space at the end of the bed - and she would relax if every instinct wasn’t screaming at her. Something doesn’t feel right.
She’s lowered the gun, although she keeps hold of it, when the second tug occurs. She watches the sheets shift again with no apparent cause, and while she points her gun again, she’s not sure what good it’ll do. “Who’s there? Identify yourself.”