Was she being a bit unadventurous, sticking to the places she knew?

Well, maybe. But Ursa didn't connect to a whole lot of new places, anyway, and Polaris was probably a better bet for finding new tunnels. So, she--

"BLAAAAAARGH!" The ground seemed to slip out beneath a foot, and then--get this--it bit her. The ground! BIT her! All right, so it was obvious by now that it wasn't the ground, and probably some poor animal she'd stepped on by accident. Aethereal scrambled and flailed, eventually hitting the ground with a thump. There was more snarling from the teeth wrapped around her foot, and the distinctly painful feeling of tearing and Oil seeping out from the myriad puncture wounds.

Utterly bewildered, a desperate need to just know what the gosh darn heck was going on had Aethereal flailing again--this time with the invisible arm of magic. It backfired beautifully, pressing wonderfully useless feelings of being a simple snowflake lying on the ground with a billion other snowflakes into the valkhound's mind. Thus making the feeling of teeth digging into her foot very odd--did snowflakes have feet?

Look, our crabby friend really isn't having a good day either. It got stepped on by someone way too big to eat: more than ten times as long as it was! And now it's rolling around, and it knows its carapace is pretty hard, but who knows how heavy this valkhound is?! As fun as it is to snarl and keep biting like an overly aggressive goose, it really isn't worth the risk anymore.

So the trapdoor ray (finally) lets go, scuttling off to wherever it came from to fume over inconsiderately large and clumsy creations, and as for said creation? Oh, she still has no idea what just happened. Aethereal's trying to figure it out, but when was the last time this kind of magic has actually cooperated when she's needed it to? The metaphorical magical flailing is in vain, and she's still no closer to getting a second point of view on her surroundings. At least, she thinks, the teeth are gone.

Probably the only lucky thing about this entire situation is that Tunnel B is wonderfully snowy, especially this close to the Ursa entrance! The Witch of Winter stuffs her wounded toes into a soft, powdery snowdrift. Ahh, sweet relief.

Now, it's not every day that a valkhound wandering through your tunnel is brought down by a fearsome trapdoor ray. So it's only natural for Tunnel B's denizens to be curious. This particular red rat is one of the more inquisitive and brave ones in here. It scampers closer, pausing a few feet away, as its pack watches from the shadows. Dozens of beady little eyes blink from behind snow-dusted rocks as, after a break, Aethereal resumes her attempts at magic in a much more dignified manner. Hey, even if the problem is gone for now, it'd be really nice if she could get an extra sense or five to keep this kind of thing from happening again. The prime target? The source of those tiny scurrying footsteps she hears nearby!

A blackfly buzzes closer to the red rat. It snorts, shaking its head to shoo it away. And this gives the Witch of Winter more or less the general location she needs. And will you look at that! The spell actually responds this time!

The magic snaked out, slinking, linking: coiling serpentine between the two minds.

One mind vast, roiled with Chaos: the other primitive, and suddenly charged with fear. Her patient determination strikes the Red Rat, emotions not its own, emotions that spark a cascade of sparking terror in it: what are these foreign feelings?!

The sensations of dark and cold fill her mind, of fear, of the skittering helplessness of prey. The Red Rat bolts: deep into a burrow, down, down and away, the earth swallowing it up and is it safe yet-? No, no, this foreign mind pursues it; it runs, and runs, and runs...

The hammer of a tiny heart beating far too fast fills Aethereal's senses, the gasp of wretched, searing breaths in panicked lungs. It is a flood of prey-beast fear, even as the rat disappears into the earth.

@Aethereal

The rats' knavish stares followed their companion as it scurried forward--and was suddenly struck by fear, darting back underground as if for dear life. And yet the beast didn't seem to have actually done anything...? Eh; if their boldest packmate thought it was best to flee, then the rest of them'd better follow its lead. In an instant, the observers scattered, a mass exodus of grimy red fur and clicking claws on stone.

Meanwhile, Aethereal was absolutely nowhere closer to figuring out what was going on. The magic had worked! She'd felt the change, just as she now felt the press of the rat's fear in her mind and the rushing sensation of its flight underground. Overwhelming as its terror was, the Witch of Winter managed with some difficulty to separate the fear from her own emotions. (Practice makes perfect, right?)

Chief among those 'own emotions' were confusion--and a mounting sense of guilt. Something must have gone wrong. Pride hadn't mentioned this kind of reaction provided the magic actually succeeded, right? She hadn't meant to scare the thing so badly.

Deeper and deeper the linked rat fled, but its helpless terror showed no signs of abating. She'd have to be the one to do something about this, Aethereal realized. First--oh, curses, she was really broadcasting all that confusion and guilt along the link, wasn't she? That couldn't be helping. Hastily, the valkhound tried to pull a sort of curtain over the emotions, to shield the rat from them--but look, have you ever tried to just poof away negative emotions? Long story short, it wasn't all that effective.

Fine, fine. She'd try something else, maybe. She could reach for comforting feelings--warmth and love, like Mother had? Well... rats had mothers, too, right? Questionable morals aside, it was the best thing she'd thought of, and Aethereal didn't have time to brainstorm other options. She'd summon all the warmth and reassurance that she could, every sliver of happiness she could recall, and push it along the link, reassuring it: she meant no harm. And with a little magic to back it up--oh, was it chaotic magic? That was too bad; she didn't have anything else.

Somewhere in the distance, in the darkness, the creature stilled. The faraway sensation of racing heart and panting breaths crept along the shared link, but now the rat had stopped; it was paying attention.

The reach of mind-to-mind soothed it, somewhat, but not without its cost: the curl of corruption touched the little body, and the Rat trembled.

@Aethereal