"Leave the golden feather where it lies. If you take it you will be
sorry for it, and know the meaning of fear."
But the brave young archer sat on the horse of power and looked at
the golden feather, and wondered whether to take it or not. He had no
wish to learn what it was to be afraid, but he thought, "If I take it
and bring it to the Tzar my master, he will be pleased; and he will
not send me away with empty hands, for no Tzar in the world has a
feather from the burning breast of the fire-bird." And the more he
thought, the more he wanted to carry the feather to the Tzar. And in
the end he did not listen to the words of the horse of power. He leapt
from the saddle, picked up the golden feather of the fire-bird,
mounted his horse again, and galloped back through the green forest
till he came to the palace of the Tzar.