Lost Creek Hollow Hiya, Lou

Dude...I just laughed my glasses off.

Joss didn't want much to do with this patrolling business, but it wasn't because he felt his own safety was at risk, nor did he really realize how detrimental it was to have someone like him patrolling. The only added benefit of having Joss mark borders were the markings he left behind here and there. His presence, however, was a blotch on the pack's reputation, a detriment to whatever appearance they'd have should an ambassador from another pack pass by, or should another wolf come to join them. They would certainly be deterred by seeing his famine-wrought frame. It was a pity, then, when his best asset along the borders was his urine; Joss himself was a disgrace. 

He'd no more than flicked an ear and snorted skeptically at the abrasive and shrill wail in the distance. Whoever that was, they needed a Halls and a swig of Buckely's, stat. Greeting strangers at the borders wasn't his job, fortunately, so he considered this to be a 'not my circus, not my monkeys' sort of situation and continued to amble along, dithering more than anything, but nevertheless adding markings here and there so that he was contributing in some way. So he shouldn't have been surprised when a stranger caught sight of him, barked a confusing accusation and then bolted. Joss was the type of wolf whose reflexes could best be likened to those of a dead camel, so moronically he cast a quizzical look over his shoulder- a choice that cost him several precious seconds- before he realized that the male hurtling toward him hadn't caught sight of an actual intruder. He'd caught sight of Joss.

He dropped to a crouch before he sprang in the opposite direction and began to scream "NOT!! NOT!! NOT!!!" as a high-pitched, yipping ki-yay as he scampered, clawed feet scrambling for purchase in the snow-covered, icy ground. He took one glance over his shoulder and instinctively gritted his teeth together, squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath- this was going to suck.