Like moths to a flame

When had been the last time he had been here? Too long by the boy?s estimation. He had been but a child and not nearly as adept as he was now, though he had managed to meet lovely? euh? what?s-her-face? That girl that refused to be swayed by him, which infuriated him, but who was also oh so fun to irk and annoy. That had been a good day. The ivory giant did not know what brought him to the plains now, and certainly not in the middle of winter, all the grass dead and offering little real protecting from anything.
Still he would lumber through the grasses, violet gaze swinging around with a rhythm. He hoped his visit here this time would be as fruitful as the last.