Esma had one and only son and his name was Murat. From an early age he fell in love with hunting and wandered along the upper reaches of the stormy Kodor in search of game.
One day Murat was returning from hunting with a dead chamois hanging behind his back. The successful hunter walked joyfully, heading towards the house. But suddenly he was stopped by shouts from neighbors walking towards him:
- Murat, Murat! - they moaned. - Pskhu was attacked by abreks!
Woe to us!
Murat called his brothers, but they abandoned the dangerous campaign. Murat went alone to distant Pskhu. He crossed forest thickets, stormy streams, and overcame steep rocks. Finally he entered Pskhu.
Murat rushed at the enemies who were not expecting him, defeated them completely and saved the inhabitants from ruin.
But a year later the raid was repeated. And again Murat appeared in Pskhu and again won.
Meanwhile, Murat's enemies planned to take revenge: they assembled a detachment to catch Murat alive and take him into captivity.
It was very early; Murat, having woken up, sat down by the fireplace to find a smoldering coal in the ashes and light his pipe. Suddenly a menacing cry was heard in the yard:
- Hey, Murat! Give up! Lay down your weapons, come out!
“At least let me have a smoke!.. Wait!..” answered Murat. It became quiet in the courtyard and in Murat’s hut. Suddenly he jumped up, kicked the door, which flew off with a crash, and roaring like a lion, rushed at the enemies with a drawn saber. Many enemies were killed by Murat's well-aimed blows, until an enemy bullet hit him in the head. Blood streamed from his temple. Staggering, Murat covered the wound with his bashlyk and sat down, leaning on a stone. His mother ran out of the saklya screaming and rushed to her son.
- Murat, Murat! You're wounded, your face is bleeding!
“Not in blood, not in blood, but in sweat,” her son answered her, repeating the usual spell used to calm the wounded.
Bowing his head on the stone, he did not take his fading gaze away from his mother.
- Nan, have pity on me! – he suddenly whispered. This shocked his mother:
- My son! - she exclaimed. – You have always been a hero. Why now, before death, are you telling me this?
Murat gathered his last strength and stood up. His face was as stern as before.
- Tell me, no one heard our conversation? – he groaned.
“Only me,” answered the mother.
Murat slowly sank onto the stone, and a proud smile lit up the dying man’s face. He died satisfied with his mother's answer.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru