Swiftcurrent Creek come out of your cave walking on your hands

Brook waddled toward her father without hesitation. If she knew that her brother was more timid, she showed no signs of it. She never waited for him; she never coddled him. Brook did what she wanted to do, never letting anything hold her back. Her smile was bright and cheery at her father's voice, the words meaning nothing to her, but their tone meaning everything. She grunted softly as she tumbled forward, eventually blinking up at his large (in comparison) face, sniffing him with her sharpest sense: smell.