Thereupon came Angra Mainyu, who is all death, and he counter-created by his witchcraft the serpent in the river and winter, a work of the Daêvas.
There are ten winter months there, two summer months; and those are cold for the waters, cold for the earth, cold for the trees. Winter falls there, with the worst of its plagues.
—VENDÎDÂD, Fargard I
This land was once covered by dunes, by forests, by grasslands and rocky mountains. Bathed by the sun, by light drizzles and heavy rains, swept by warm winds and the smell of the sea. Now, after almost two hundred years of long, endless winter, the land is white, cold and merciless, and only glimpses of the sun can be seen in between days of blizzards. Large cave cities are kept warm by the living pulse of machinery, and refugees secret and arcane move deep within their lowest levels. Lone trains zip through the seas of ice and snow and nomads scratch a living out of the frozen wastes.
This is the land of snow, of ice.. a Winter of Wolves.