What say you to the charge that is laid before you this cold winter night? Dare you take up your own defense, dare you take up your pen in furious denunciation of the rumors that now stalk the land? Your hand shakes in barely concealed rage. You cannot quite the believe the furor that has been unleased. In this modern age the news travels lightning swift, does it not? Even lightning is slower than the venom that has been unleashed in service of your doom. Will you actually try to fight back this night? You put your head into your hands and slowly slump down in your chair before the fireside. Your phone is on the table next to you, it is no use. Anything you see now will be naught but further acid upon the wounds that now etch themselves down your face. Your tears no longer flow. But perhaps there is one who may take up the case. Perhaps he would. Just maybe. You have no strength left in you and no vigor left in your mind. You have been smartly disarmed and in totality unmasked. There is no other option. You raise your head and breathe deep. You look to the window and see the snow swirl gleefully down. Your hand trembles. It is all arrayed against you, is it not? You are not spotless after all. But who may rise in your defense? Who may clear their throat and speak out against the lies that bind? Who may take your cause for their own? It would be perilous, possibly life threatening. Yet there is one who may just step into the breach. You raise your hand in silent supplication. A knock sounds at the door.