Surrounding the tigress is a faint blue-green aurora. Whistle stands in the new opening through the hallway wall, her hands uplifted, fingers bent arcanely. The magic she casts is their only reliable way of keeping Striper quiescent and therefore harmless until properly confined, but this is hardly a panacea. In fact, it’s the only spell the mage knows that might be used in this regard, and it’s very draining.