Sun Mote Copse broken bottles arranged to make tea

Lurching from the cover of leaves, the bits scattered from his shoulders but not entirely. Reyes pawed at some as they collected in little lumps, kicking a heel back as he removed himself from the main mess. He stood there feeling very pleased with himself and turned to survey the scatterings.

If this were a cartoon you'd see it as:

Small leaf pile -- medium leaf pile -- messy leaves -- crying child -- leaf pile -- wait what?

Those glossy wide eyes, crumpled posture, and the sucking in of air were clues that Reyes was in for a fun time; then Primrose let it rip, erupting in a fit of screeching and crying that hit Reyes like a wall. He stepped back and heard the crunching of the leaves, this time with a touch of terror, because he knew -- he knew -- that he'd inadvertently destroyed the kid's pile.

Hey, heeey, hey buddy, hey, shhhh, stop -- stop that, c'mon. Reyes soothed, or tried to anyway, looking hastily around for any adults and truly expecting the full wrath of Niamh to descend upon him (whether this kid was her's or not; he had no idea).