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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.

Everyone in Buttery Glen was scared of the dragon...everyone but one precocious girl.

Mally 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.

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 Mally.

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

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

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

“I’m Mally,” 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! Mally 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?” Mally 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,” Mally 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 Mally.

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