Mid-winter gripped the dead world; and the twilight air was deathly chill.

The tall naked treetops stood gaunt and wraithlike against a leaden sky.
To the north, the darkness was deepest.

Evil little puffs of gale stirred the powdery snow into myriads of tiny dancing white devils.

It had been a fearful winter, thus far; colder than for a score of years; so cold that many a wild woodland creature, which usually kept far back in the mountains, had ventured down nearer to civilization for forage and warmth.
Deer tracks a-plenty had been seen, close up to the gates of the Place.
And, two days ago, in the forest, half a mile away, the Master had come upon the half-human footprints of a young bear.

Starvation stalked abroad, yonder in the white hills.