In the endless war for survival, few creatures can beat the common cockroach.  Poisoned, gassed, trapped, and eaten by larger creatures, the [i]race[/i] of cockroaches is an outstanding success.

Individually, they’re just a fast bug that squishes when stepped on.

Zircon was not a bug.

A bug would freeze in the snow-covered mountains, or get caught unaware by the hired assassin stalking his path.  A bug would not have left a cooling corpse in the bottom of a ravine, or found the cave in the granite mountain where he was stockpiling wood.  Most ponies would not have snared a brace of fat hares to eat while weathering the storm, but to Zircon, that only emphasized his individuality as [i]not[/i] part of the greater herd.

“Home, sweet home,” he rasped, heaving the former assassin’s tent-like bearskin coat to one side of the cave and taking a few moments to cool down.  In short order, he returned to his tasks, because the wild storm sweeping in was going to rage for days, but he needed to accomplish certain tasks in preparation first.  

‘Paranoia’ was just a word used to describe living ponies who had nothing to fear, but still went about their lives in a constant state of anxiety.  Zircon had many things and ponies to fear, and although he had been called paranoid before, he was still living while many of those who sought his life had been careless.

And dead.

The tripwire strung across the cave entrance, the extra firewood he had gathered, and the dead rabbits he was dressing were all symptoms of paranoia.  The way he lit his horn up with the bloody knife hovering in his magic and swung around at the quiet noise was not.

The corner of the cave where he had thrown the offal from the rabbits was occupied now.  Three small furry creatures were chewing and growling at the bloody mess, and stared back up at him with large, dark eyes at his motion.

The paranoid thing to do would have been to kill them, but they were much smaller than the unicorn, and chirped happily when Zircon threw them the last of the rabbit guts.  The creatures even had long, silky hair that would have made warm boots or a lining for his looted bearskin coat.  

Still, there was enough blood on his hooves for one day, and he turned to arranging the small fire that would be his constant companion until the storm went away. Setting up the copper pot, packing it with snow to melt, arranging the remaining firewood to provide a reflector for the warmth.  They were all necessary tasks constantly put on hold by the antics of the playful little creatures, seeming to be crosses between some sort of long-limbed fox and mischievous otters. 

The smaller of the three creatures, most likely an adolescent, was much more timid than the others.  It limped by favoring one foreleg, which was a mystery until Zircon managed to use bits of meat to coax it out of the snowpacked corner of the cave where it was hiding. A few minutes of cuddling all three of them let him get a better understanding of the broken limb, and the death warrant it spelled for the crippled creature if not corrected.

“Hold still, little guy,” murmured Zircon, using the gentle touch of his magic to spin a web of twigs and string around the twisted limb.  “Now don’t chew it off until next week.  You’ll be just fine by then.”

The jagged ends of the bones under the furry skin were difficult to match together, taking more energy for his magic to fuse than Zircon liked.  Afterwards, he sagged back on the bearskin coat and let the little creatures climb over him, including his clumsy patient.  It was a good moment, free from the constant fear of pursuit and warm with the feeling of accomplishment.

“Whew.  We’ll give you little guys a drink, I can make some rabbit stew, and—”  

With a shift in the chill air, a [i]huge[/i] snow-covered creature appeared in the cave entrance, holding the corpse of a dead goat flung over one shoulder.  It looked at Zircon and the smaller creatures climbing over him, gave a low chuff of fury, and lunged forward with long clawed fingers reaching for the arrogant creature who threatened its [i]young[/i].

Then it hit the tripwire.

And a heartbeat later, Zircon was out in the growing blizzard, running for his life.