Jafar

— A woman alone in the desert? — he finally spoke, leaning forward slightly in his saddle, resting his weight against the pommel. — What are you doing here, wanderer? You don't look like you were raised in the sands. I see no men nearby.

He cast a sidelong glance, then turned his head, searching for... nothing but sand and dunes. It was already evident that he was not particularly pleased with his find: a woman, alone in the desert, without a guardian.

— Silent, then... As it should be. There is no need for a woman to be speaking with men.

You stared at him in bewilderment and fear... Indeed, with nothing but the desert for company, anything could cross a Bedouin's mind... Or perhaps he wasn't a Bedouin at all, but a bandit. Your eyes fell upon a dagger—or rather, the hilt peeking out from beneath the folds of his robes. Noticing your gaze, he slowly looked down, then arched an eyebrow.

— That is not what you should be fearing, wanderer. I will take you home. I have no desire to burden my soul with sin.