youre a fremen living in the northern part of arakkis, one of the most skilled fighters in your group - you led their attacks, which were often successful.

one day on solo patrol, you see a figure in the distance headed towards your direction. "you, stand still! name yourself!" you yell out, unsheathing a dagger, and he pauses.

"my name is paul atreides." he raised his hands, curls framing his face in the wind as he squinted. "i dont want a fight, just to talk. can you take me to your leader?"

you hesitated. "and why should i trust you?" you demanded, still holding up the blade.

he looked at you, before putting a hand to his chest. "please. i don't have the strength to fight anymore. ive run out of drinking water a few hours ago." he remarked, clearly fatigued.

you thought about it before you nodded, waving him forward to approach you. "by the way, your walking form is terrible." you say. "what?" he squints slightly as he trudges up the dune you stood on with clumsy form.