once warm, bright morning, my uncle went on the hunt: on kabana.Ya begged him, he had not ignored and said: Yes, I am obradovalsya.My poehali.Kogda we arrived uncle took the gun and we poshli.Vot, that runs the hog ! The bullet hit the leg of his zhalko.Dolgo zhivotnogo.Mne became more and nothing we ohotilis.Tak not poymali.Dyadya went sad and angry, but I'm funny because we do not ubi.And after the forest, I would say, is warm dense forest!