The devis wandered far and wide in their search, but nowhere could they learn any tidings of him they sought. Then they said: ‘Perhaps some one will enter our house and steal, while we are here. Let one of us go home, and the rest watch here.’ Each wished to go, and promised to run back again as quickly as possible. But the devis chose the two-headed brother, and sent him.
The two-headed brother came, and saw that his mother was no longer there, but in her place was a strange youth. He clapped him on the shoulder, and cried out: ‘Who art thou, wretch, who darest to venture here? For fear of me, bird cannot fly under heaven, nor can ant crawl on earth. Art thou not afraid that I shall eat thee?’ ‘Thou shalt not eat me,’ said Ghvthisavari, throwing an arrow. He cut him into a hundred pieces, gave him to the dogs, and made them throw him into the sea.
The four remaining devis waited for their two-headed brother, but he did not come. They thought that perhaps he was staying eating him who had shot the arrow, so they sent the three-headed brother.
The three-headed devi came home, and found neither his mother nor brother, and called out: ‘For fear of me bird cannot fly in air, nor can ant creep on earth. Who art thou who darest to venture here? Art thou not afraid that I shall eat thee?’ ‘Thou shalt not eat me,’ said Ghvthisavari, casting an arrow. He cut him into a hundred pieces, gave him to the dogs, and made them throw him into the sea.
The remaining brothers waited and waited, and then sent the five-headed devi. He too boasted, but Ghvthisavari did unto him that day even as he had done unto the others. Then the nine-headed devi went. The same thing befell him as his brothers.
The ten-headed devi was now the only one left. He thought to himself: ‘My brothers are probably eating, and will not leave anything for me.’ He rose and went too.
He went in and saw that his mother and brothers were not there. Instead, there was a strange youth, lying down resting. The devi called out: ‘From fear of me the bird in heaven dare not fly, on earth the ant dare not crawl. Who art thou who darest to venture here? Art thou not afraid that I shall eat thee?’ ‘Thou shalt not eat me,’ said Ghvthisavari, throwing an arrow and killing him. He drew out his sword, cut off his heads, and gave him to the dogs to throw into the sea.
Ghvthisavari was left master of the field. Then he said to himself: ‘I will go and bring my mother and her companion here, and I shall live as I like.’ He went forth and brought them, settled them in the house, and prepared for the chase.
From the sea there staggered forth the last ten-headed devi, and hid under a tree. When Ghvthisavari had cut off his heads, in his haste he had left the tenth on. Now, it was in this head that the soul was placed, so the devi came out on to the shore, full of wrath.
The next day Ghvthisavari again went out hunting. His mother, wishing to see the surroundings, went out of the house into the garden. As she walked about, the devi suddenly appeared at the foot of a tree. The devi pleaded, saying: ‘Do not give me up! Do not tell thy son that I am hidden here!’ Ghvthisavari’s mother promised, and when Ghvthisavari went out to the chase, his mother always took food and drink to the devi. And at last she loved him.