Lost Creek Hollow Sir, you have no call to get snippy with me!

With a cheek and shoulder full of quills, Joss was vexed; he wanted to paw at them, but he'd been told before never to do that as it would force them deeper. Unfortunately, he listened to that thought only for a few moments before he gave it a try- and cried out in pain as he did, indeed, push them into his skin a bit deeper. Lightly paralysed by the shock and unsure exactly how to get himself out of that situation, he stayed right where he was, his wild gaze sweeping this way and that, simmering with frustration and shame as a pale wolf came into his line of vision. He slumped against the ground, hoping not to be seen, but it was too late; he'd definitely been spotted, and by the look of concern on the male's face, his quills had been noticed too. 

He began to shrink backwards, crawling a bit with his belly on the ground as the male approached and he uttered a faint, weak growl to warn him in case he decided to press his luck and take a piece out of Joss while he was injured. The male had a curious look on his face, but not the kind of curiosity that meant he might strike out for fun, or poke fun at Joss, who still regarded his new companion with distrust and something akin to resentment. He didn't like being seen like this. 

He was offered assistance, but Joss wasn't eager to accept it. He didn't know who this guy was, or if he had any idea what to do with this sort of situation. Joss knew that the only option was to get de-quilled, but that would mean letting this stranger get very close to him and pluck the quills out, if he was even remotely willing to do so. Still, was he in a position to refuse? It wasn't like he'd go to Treason, as he imagined she might not like seeing him in that condition...So it was possibly for the best that someone else dealt with this disaster, before he got caught this way by the leader of the pack. 

"Quillpig." He said quietly, by way of explaining what was already a pretty clear scenario. He looked up into the trees and caught sight of the large, quilled creature on a branch halfway up a spruce tree, and gave it a scathing look. He didn't ask for help, and didn't look incredibly welcoming of it either- but he wasn't in a position to ward the male off either. He turned his muzzle away, presenting the quilled cheek and shoulder to the male, but couldn't help himself from giving him a particularly steely side-eye the whole while; mixed messages were somewhat of a Joss specialty.