The hospitality of the firbolgs was not for a moment in question by the great cat, or the form and identity he had again assumed. With all honesty, they were a touch of divine grace in a very tense moment and fortunately wise enough in the ways of the world to not turn on the outsiders immediately for what they witnessed. This allowed the mighty figure to rest at ease, even as his footfall laid itself in their tracks and not another word left him for the hours of the journey. It seemed the firbolgs shared even more a somber sentiment, more than the druid but nothing to come as unexpected; this blow was struck directly against their home, something that pained Lorenthar agonized them. All the beast could do was offer the young priestess a look of confirmation.

She was not wrong in her desires or questioning, just that these creatures were not ready to taste the sour vinegar of sobering reality when life was once made up of what could be said to be fine, if not wild wines.

By the time they arrived the claim was lively with activity, but that too rapidly waned. In moments the gleeful young and curious observers had disappeared, a few undoubtedly spoken to in word as they had already been in emotion. The elder, as it was, continued with them and led them to what possibly could have been his barrow or den; regardless of what it was, it was not an unexpected response and effort, but one that showed ample faith for the time being. 

Lorenthar stopped only then to witness the reactions of those he had found himself traveling with, not yet reverting his savage countenance or features. As asked of him to rest, he set his hindquarters down, seating himself.