He moved forward, following the girl as she made her way upstairs, sticking to the shadows. He watched and waited until she had started a fire, and then, while hiding behind a rock, put on his mask. It was just a long sleeve shirt tied up to cover his face, and protect his identity. It was covered in blood stains and caked with dust and grime, but it worked.
He stepped out of cover, and as the girl turned around he pulled his scimitar out of it's scabbard and readied it. Just in case. The blade was dented and scratched in a few places, and a small patch of rust was starting to appear on one side. It did it's job however. "Who are you, and where are you from?" He asked, looking at the girl through his mask. He had pulled the blade out mostly for intimidation, not wanting to appear weak and vulnerable. He didn't want to kill her, or anyone in fact.