Ted did not see anyone or anything, but the feeling of being watched persisted. There were no other packs of snow lions, no signs of the Air Snake, and certainly no one acting funny enough to make the cult leader suspect a supernatural con job.
The mutinous thoughts were, by now, apparent to Ted as well. The looks he received from some of the cultists were nothing short of murderous. He was not prioritized in things that he should have been able to call the dibs on. He did not even get the best bits of the lion he himself had taken down.
This had to end, but it seemed badly like Madorn had been right. No cruelty, no display of brute force was enough to put the insolent cultists back in their rightful places, and Ted feared the worst. Given that the surely loyal ones were three men short of a dozen, he did not trust his numbers, and the faith Lumpy had for him seemed to be faltering as well.
