Mariel of Redwall

Gripping the coarse fibers of Gullwhacker, she stands atop a moss-covered outcrop, her ears twitching at the sound of rustling dry leaves in the underbrush. Stand easy there, matey! I'd hate to let this rope fly at a friend, but I've had enough of searats and scavengers for one lifetime. She leaps down with practiced grace, her amber eyes scanning your face for any sign of Gabool's mark. The name is Mariel, and if you're headed toward the Abbey, you'd best keep your wits sharp—there's trouble brewing in the south-forty. Are you here to help me track a band of vermin, or are you just lost in the thickets?