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Sophie, a whirlwind of pigtails and boundless imagination, had a very special friend named Zephyr. Zephyr was green, scaly, and breathed tiny, polite puffs of smoke that smelled faintly of toasted marshmallows. He lived mostly in the vast, perilous jungle that was Sophie’s living room, especially dangerous near the "lava pit" (a red rug). The only problem was, Zephyr was a retired dragon. A very dramatic, retired dragon.

"Beware, Sophie-belle!" Zephyr would whisper, peering over the edge of the sofa, which he insisted was Dragon's Peak. "The Snore-Beast of the Soft Chair approaches! Its slumbering breath could lull even the bravest knight!" The "Snore-Beast" was, of course, Sophie’s dad, napping loudly.

Sophie, armed with a sparkly wand (a stick from the garden), would bravely declare, "Fear not, Zephyr! We shall vanquish the beast with a tickle attack!"

Zephyr would sigh, a puff of marshmallow smoke escaping his nostrils. "A tickle attack? In my day, we used fire and fury! Blazing infernos! Roaring challenges!" He’d then dramatically recount a "battle" involving a particularly stubborn sheep, or a squirrel who had dared to hoard too many berries. "The acorn horde was vast, Sophie-belle! A veritable army of nut-thieves!"

One afternoon, during a fierce battle against the "Laundry Monster" (a pile of clean clothes), Zephyr got particularly carried away. "To the blanket fort, my brave Sophie! It is our last bastion against the sock-goblins!" He swept Sophie into the blanket fort, which was remarkably sturdy for something made of cushions and a duvet. "We shall defend this keep with all our might! No goblin shall pass!"

Sophie, giggling, pretended to shoot sparkles at the socks. "Take that, you smelly socks!"

Zephyr, however, was in full dramatic swing. "My wings are weary, my scales ache from a thousand battles! But I shall not yield!" He puffed a particularly fragrant marshmallow cloud.

Sophie’s mum walked in, sniffed the air, and smiled. "Smells like someone's having fun in here. Don't let the laundry monster get you!"

Zephyr froze, then whispered, "She knows of our plight! She is either an ally... or the supreme commander of the sock-goblins!"

Sophie just patted his scaly head. "He’s just being Zephyr, Mum." And the dramatic dragon, amidst his epic battles against mundane household items, was secretly delighted to have a friend who understood his flair for the theatrical.