In Shdustu, autumn is a mild thing. There are few trees, and of those that do find ways to grow in sheltered places, almost all retain their scales and needles year round. Flowers fall and grasses set seed, but amid the vast diversity of steppe plants these are continual processes that last from early summer through the coming of snow. Only an expert eye notices the floral change. The days gradually grow shorter, and the air cools, but there is nothing concrete to mark the shift. Only those who consult astronomer's tables can properly demarcate the variance. It is almost deceptive, this slow adjustment, lurching toward the arrival of winter without warning.

Those who know the land well are not fooled, and the cooling days feature a scramble of activity. The Kharal and Nikkad alike take in their crops and feverishly process the output to last through the winter. That one is primarily meat and the other predominantly vegetable is merely a difference of process, not timing. The need is the same. Colts and elderly animals are slaughtered, fields are reaped, vegetables are harvested, and preserves are laid aside. Other preparations unfold as well. The Kharal take in rope fencing and load up their simple frame wagons in anticipation of the shift to winter pastures that tradition dictates follows the first frost. The Nikkad harden their homes with insulation and prepare their gardens to shelter their livestock through the cold period. Others construct shelters which will endure, or not, the hard times. All is bustle and business, with no time for pause or celebration.

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Though the plants appear little changed by this as their transformation to endure the winter is hidden below the surface of the soil or within their trunks, the reactions of the animals are obvious. Insects slowly vanish from the landscape, with all things slowly quieting as buzzing and chirping withdraws from the background of grassland. Birds too grow scarce. Huge flocks fly south as feathered forms great and small abandon the steppe. Only a small number remain active, leaving behind a stark backdrop drained of bright colors. Marmots, pikas, and other rodents retreat to the mouths of their burrows, waiting for snow to drive them fully underground. The wild herds of deer, ass, boar, and sheep find sheltered locations in which they congregate. Stillness slowly settles over the entirety of the vast last. The Kharal says that: 'Tippapaku sleeps, Ukit rises to take the watch.'

By the time the frost coats the land in shining shimmer and the first snow graces the sky to signal the proper onset of winter, Shdustu has already made ready. Though the precise timing varies from north to south, in the end the cold wraps the whole of the steppe in a vise, and true hardship comes forth to make itself known.