It's a little after 7 in the evening, and the sun has since set and darkness befallen the world. The snow falls thickly straight down, almost no hint of a breeze; everything is almost completely silent, even the quiet trodding of farmers going home or the odd benign creature scuffling through the underbrush muffled by the newly fallen and still-falling snow.
For about a mile, the land is dimly and patchily lit by lights from farmhouses surrounded by stables, cornfields and such. But after that even that scant light will be gone, and complete unbroken darkness will rule. Several inches of snow have fallen already, and it is cold; not the extreme, mind-numbing cold of late winter, but just cold enough to register in your senses that winter has indeed begun.