All through the dark hours of the night, the wounded Gostahm writhed upon the bloody grass of the meadow like a stricken serpent, groaning in unbearable agony. As dawn broke and the sun bathed the world in radiant light, Bizhan rode back and forth across the meadow, searching desperately for any sign of his missing companion. Suddenly, he caught sight of Gostahm's dun steed in the distance—wandering riderless, its saddle inverted, its reins snapped, and its stirrups and lasso drenched in crimson blood. At this tragic sight, Bizhan lost his composure and let out a fierce, lion-like roar of anguish, weeping for his beloved brother-in-arms.
Following the horse's bloody tracks toward a mountain spring, Bizhan at last discovered Gostahm lying collapsed on the ground, his body covered in dust and gore, his armor shattered. Bizhan leaped down from his swift night-black charger, took Gostahm tenderly in his arms, removed his heavy iron helmet, and laid his cheeks upon Gostahm's gaping wounds. Gostahm slowly opened his eyes, gasped for breath, and consoled his friend: 'O true-hearted comrade, do not despair for me. My grief for your sorrow hurts more than death itself. Find a way to carry me to the King so that I may behold Kai Khosrow's countenance once more before I pass into the dust. By God's grace, I have slain the two evil brothers, Lahhak and Farshidvard; bind their corpses and weapons to their saddles so the King knows I did not throw my life away in vain.'
Bizhan praised Gostahm's incredible courage, tore his own tunic into bandages, and used the felt padding of the saddle to staunch the hero's heavy bleeding. Scanning the crests, Bizhan spotted a few fleeing Turanian horsemen. Swooping down like lightning, he struck down two and captured a third, granting him mercy on the condition that he assist in transport. Together, they strapped the fallen corpses of Lahhak and Farshidvard onto their mounts. Then, Bizhan gently lifted the frail, wounded Gostahm onto his steed, placing him securely in the arms of the captive rider to hold him steady. With a heart heavy with grief yet burning with hope, Bizhan galloped back toward the royal camp, praying he could reach the Shah while breath still remained in Gostahm's chest.