It started out as a small laugh. Not much louder than a whisper. Clint barely heard anything at first. He soon wished he hadn't heard the laugh at all.
Clint cast his eyes toward the closet door. The laugh grew louder, piercing a stillness within the bedroom. Something about it felt unnatural, almost ghoulish. No pause. Only a continued escalation from chuckle to cackle. Clint's eyes grew as wide and round as plates. He pressed his back against the wall. His knuckles tightened and each breath grew shallower.
How did they find him? Special runes adorned each wall inside and outside the closet. None worked as advertised.
His circumstances had taken a sudden dangerous turn. He lacked enough speed to evade his pursuers. Screaming for help would only make things worse. Clint could no longer deny the reality facing him.
The others discovered his final refuge and tracked him down.
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Very clever!
Insufficient information in story to answer your question. And that is part of the story's appeal. Bwahaha!