A long time ago, near a village called Buttery Glen, there lived a dragon. He was the color of midnight. He was huge and covered in sharp, pointy scales. The fire he breathed could light up the night sky.

He lived in a nest high above the village in an old, dead tree. 

Zoe wanted to be a knight. She was strong and brave and unafraid.

Sure, the dragon breathed fire. But there were people with worse breath. And sure, the Dragon looked scary. But there were dogs in the village with scarier faces.

(She had no fears)

One day, the dragon had come down from his nest and was hiding in the cornfields.

Everyone ran to escape the dragon. Everyone except for Zoe.

Armed with her homemade sword, helmet and shield, Zoe ran through the deserted village toward the cornfield. 

When she spotted the dragon, Zoe snuck up behind him.

“Excuse me!” Zoe yelled. The dragon roared. He lowered his head to her level. Zoe felt the dragon’s hot breath on her face.

“I’m Zoe,” she said. “I’ve come to tell you to go away. You’re scaring everybody.”

The dragon’s breaths quickened. Huff! Huff! Huff! It looked like the dragon’s fire was about to blow! Zoe braced herself. But instead of fire coming out his mouth, tears began pouring down the dragon’s snout.

“I’m so lonely. Nobody likes me,” the dragon said.

“Why should anyone like you?” Zoe replied. “You burned down the castle.”

“I didn’t burn down the castle,” the dragon said. “It was struck by lightning. I would never do that.”

“Wow,” Zoe said. “Sounds like you’re the victim of a smear campaign. We’ve got to fix this. What are you good at?”

“Breathing fire,” replied the dragon.

“Well, let’s see it,” ordered Zoe.