The air pierces the lungs with thousands of ice needles. Fog and cold are the rulers of the morning forest. They cover the lonely tree stumps spreading till the eye can see. After the first sunrays mercilessly kill playful dews, the steps of the mushroom pickers wake up this sleepy kingdom. 

The leaves waltz, falling from the trees. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three… They mix in a colorful dance, rustle and whisper their songs to the curious audience. Trying not to ruin the symphony of nature, the squirrels seamlessly jump between the branches. 

From time to time, a desperate shout disturbs the serenity of this place; the lost mushroom pickers try to find others. They cut the stamps to mark the way, but sometimes the coldness of the knife blade betrays their hopes. The forest trembles because of the sudden noise; the hedgehogs rush to hide between the fallen leaves and keep quiet until the danger vanishes. 

There is nothing left from the unwelcoming atmosphere of the morning. The air is filled with the distinct smell of mushrooms and wet leaves, which can’t be confused with anything else. The bitter taste of wild apples sticks on the tongue of brave ones who decided to explore this place of mystery and peace. The forest hides a lot of secrets that are worth exploring.

Dariia Tyshchenko