Late September in the Pochalla Coal Mine Field of the Ural Mountains Range.
Within the desolate coniferous forest, a grey hare with plush fur perked up its ears warily, standing on its hind legs with a leaf in its mouth, its small, red eyes reflecting the shadow of a thicket.
The air was silent, when suddenly the grey hare twisted its body and darted away. The brush rustled as two hunting dogs burst forth, swiftly closing in on the hare and snapping its neck with a bite.
Instead of feasting on the hare's body, the dogs carried their captured prey through the brush and made their way through the coniferous forest, soon arriving at a vast area of coal mining production. The workers' cheeks were smeared with coal dust; donning metal caps and with brass plates clenched between their teeth, at the end of each plate burned a candle. They plunged into the mining tunnels and brought chunks of coal to the surface, their constant labor in the dim, cramped mine shafts bent their bodies.
