"How dare you!" the seamstress cries, outraged. "Were you not revealed to our public attention by attempting to convert others to your affliction? Your claims are absurd! So, we found a note, claiming to have a cure. According to this accusation you have dubiously set forth, words on paper are not capable of lying?"
Pacing forward, anger in her step and an outstretched finger, the seamstress tossed aside her knitting needles and accosted the Butcher.
"I am no more a wolf than you are innocent! The reason I accuse you is because that longer that we let you life, new canine beast, the longer the true monstrosities will hide behind the focus we will all have to pay to you as long as you are alive. Whether or not you were cured you certainly would have claimed it!"
Coming face to face with slitted eyes, the shorter, middle-aged woman looked up fearlessly. "And if you are not cured, which is a very real and terrifying possibility, then by the time that we know it for sure it will be the death of us all. So tell me, Butcher, what lies behind your accusations?"
With a shake of her head, and a turning retreat to her needles, she announced the answer to her own question "A desperate try to get the focus on anyone but you. Why else would you call so many out?"