Sun Mote Copse broken bottles arranged to make tea

He had watched as the pile grew from a small smattering of leaves to the burdened pile that it now was, unaware of who exactly was building it or why. It didn't really matter; Reyes was busy with his duties, and he only noticed because of how the layers of yellow seemed to glow where they sat. 

They caught in his peripheral vision with each pass. First when he was returning from one patrol and setting out on a second, then when he returned for a bite to eat at the caches. Now, having refilled the cache, he was done for the time being - but the pile sat there, heavy and wreathed in shades of fire.

There was only one thing he could think of to do: race at it full-tilt, and with a bellow, charge right in to the middle of it. The crunch of leaves was extremely satisfying. So was the snap of twigs and the chaos of leaves spilling every which way, which he snapped at or stomped on, until the pile was everywhere.

When he resurfaced he was laughing heartily, covered in broken bits of maple leaf.