Vol didn’t go back to his tent, he didn’t wish to sully the memories of the time he had spent there. Each lover, at the time he was making love to them, was the most important person in the world, after himself naturally. When their souls fed his other hunger afterward their importance remained, after all they had given him what he needed to survive. He treasured the memories for hours afterward, just as he treasured his memories of Aldrei. 

No one ever believed it of him. He was crude and forthright and made no bones about his nature, inclinations, or desires. People did not like that. He didn’t care. He wasn’t an evil person, at least he had never considered himself so. He was shallow, self centereed, callous, and coldly selfish. Not evil.

He didn’t even consider his first kill of the day to be evil; the woman had treated her son in a manner no woman should ever treat their own child. He had given the boy a chance to become whatever he wanted and had taught him the value of self-reliance. He did not consider that evil. 

He was pretty sure that what he had aided Baba in today had pushed him over that edge. He also knew he would do it again and feel no more regrets then as he did now. He could now claim that title of “evil” though the definition of evil tended to be illusive. On one hand the setup had been so dark and unnatural that one couldn’t help but call it evil. On the other only three people died, and they fed two. Normally he himself consumed half a dozen all by himself. So was it evil or not? 

Vol didn’t like trying to define morality; thus this question bothered him. He didn’t like thinking on it but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He needed a distraction. 

Vol picked up a bucket of chicken heads that had been laid out near the animal quarters and called the wolverines. He found an empty space, this meloncholy mood didn't suit him and he didn't wish to run into anyone else while he was brooding. He whiled away the remaining time playing “fetch” with the wolverines He tossed a chicken head, they raced after it, bringing it back or gobbling it up as they felt so inclined at the moment. No one ever tried to define the morality of a wolverine, they simply were as their natures made them. He had once lumped himself in the same category.