Lost Creek Hollow not crawling; not falling down

The silence stretched. He watched the lithe form of the woman curl naturally around the children—his included, spare Nicodem who remained nestled to his paws. 

Tentatively, as if he might squash the cub, the man rested himself once more to the floor. Thank you, Ash Paw. For all of this. He spoke in a hushed whisper, hoping the emotion in his voice was hidden by the quiet, though his eyes remained rapt upon the gentle rise and fall of Nicodem’s tiny chest—pulling the boy to his chest, as if he were a life line.