Snowblind

A fugitive trio—brooding outlaw Hugh Garth, his wide-eyed sibling Pete, and Bella, the quietly smoldering nurse who nurses both flesh and futile longing—carve a brittle Eden in the glacial wastes beyond the Mountie’s reach. Their exile, stitched from white silence and the rasp of pine, is ruptured when a half-dead girl, pupils milked over by snowblindness, staggers through the drifts like a mythic wraith. Hugh, scenting redemption or perhaps conquest, recasts reality: Pete becomes a harmless child, Bella a mere housekeeper, while he positions himself as solitary protector. As her vision slowly unclouds, so does the moral cataract: she perceives the triangulation—Pete’s bashful devotion, Bella’s aching restraint, Hugh’s tightening grip—and confronts the predatory arithmetic beneath the snow. What follows is not a love triangle but a slow avalanche of disclosure, where every revealed truth slides toward a lethal terminus and the vast, impartial cold waits to swallow what conscience cannot.