And cold.

So cold that even the wolves and foxes had buried themselves in.

No fish that autumn, no game in the deep snows, and the Indians were starving.
Pied-Bot, my heart went dead when I saw Yellow Bird.

There didn't seem to be anything left of her but her eyes and her hair--those two great, shining braids, and eyes that were big and deep and dark, like beautiful pools.

Boy, you never saw an Indian--an Indian like Yellow Bird--cry.
They don't cry very much.