Platonov In the mist of morning wilderness a man with a hunting rifle walked amid the low-growing forest. This hunter was a bit pocked in his face, but still handsome and young. In this time of year there was an uncertain odour of warmth and dampness air in forests, because of the rising plants' breathing and due to the putrefaction of leaves, being for a long time dead. One could not see a lot, but it was pleasant to walk alone and to think unimportantly, or, to the contrary, one can forget himself in slack. The forest was situated on a slope of a moderate mountain; among emaciated short birches here and there were large stones, this soil was scanty and poor, only clay and moist earth. Nevertheless, threes and grasses lived in this land for a long time, enduring its misery.