In the days after the raid, at least the ones where Darkbrier was conscious enough for it, the dark doe found herself meditating on Ray's death. Her initial frustration with how scatterbrained he seemed while they were in the silo. How big-hearted he'd been to sing to the Pfeffa as it passed into whatever eternal rest cats went to. How horrible it had been to hear him screaming, to smell the blood, to watch the others try fruitlessly to help him. She found herself angry that it had happened... but with no one she really felt the need to blame. But why had it happened? Althea had been in charge of the raid, and Darkbrier knew by reputation if nothing else that Althea was strong, intelligent, and very very sensible. Why would she have cleared Ray to go on that raid? Had she even had a paw in that, or had it been some other Owsla's decision? Or had Ray simply seen them all leaving and thought they were going to have some fun, not aware of the danger they were heading into with the battered state his aging mind had been in?
She knew little and had no answers. All she did know was that the old buck now had fatherless kittens, and that he hadn't deserved what happened. She barely remembered how he'd been before age took his mind, but she pictured a fine old buck and a grand storyteller. He was still a fine old buck... or had been, even with his eccentricities. But it didn't seem right or fair to her team, to the others who had tried to help him, to Crocus, and especially not for Ray that he'd been put into that situation. Darkbrier just... just didn't understand. And she wanted to. Or if nothing else she wanted to try and do something to keep a thing like this from happening again.
Her only real recourse seemed to be to seek out the Owsla and see if any of them could explain it. And try to convince them to take stricter measures in the future. The best place to find an Owsla... was the large burrow where they had their meetings and such, right?
Darkbrier's subconscious had apparently been leading her feet even as she puzzled through her thoughts again as she wended her way around the warren. She couldn't go outside again because Ebony had just about had a conniption the last time, but she couldn't stand sitting around in her burrow all day just waiting to heal, either. And somehow she'd found herself in a place not entirely unfamiliar, but certainly not a place she was comfortable with being. Outside the Owsla's headquarters. Well... she was here, she might as well see if she could get anything done. Frith only knew just thinking over it repeatedly wasn't helping her or anyone else and just further frayed her nerves.
"Pardon, is there an Owsla here I might speak with?" She paused, then realized she had probably ought to state her purpose as well. "It is... in regard to the storyteller that died. I was on the team with him."
Dogsbane was battered and bothered. He had been in charge as Runner for his team while they went to stake out the grain silo. He had lead a cat to its death and had a narrow miss with a farm dog. He had almost seen the black rabbit when he bolted, trying to lead that mongrel away. But it had gone for Ray, the poor senile old storyteller. 
