A bellow from out in the woods somewhere! Not quite a roar, but a call, and an unhappy one... perhaps soon to be angry.
Linnea nods to Hewitt, and with a quick motion, the cub is hefted up - her troll might restored, and perhaps, even more, as she acts to protect her Oathed Hold! Muscles bulging, strength granted by the dreaming.
"Come, we must lead her away from the hold before she tracks her cub here." To the Chieftain.