At one point, the hunter was supposed to be riding a steampunk mecha, or, to be clearer, a train with robot legs. What do you do with the wolves, then? It was only making sense to make them even huger, so that the fight would seem fair. All of this was starting to sound silly (doesn't mean I'm not going to write such a story in the future), so finally I decided to refer to sir Ernest Seton's memoirs chronicling his search for a vicious band of wolves causing trouble in the Southwestern United States. This version admittedly takes a lot of liberties in retelling the story so I suggest you take a look at the original text if it interests you, it's a good read.
The images you're about to see are in fact huuuge double spread pages that should be looked at as a whole, rather than two separate entities, hence the landscape format. I'm including transcripts below the corresponding pages.
This should be read as an entertainment piece. There is no hidden agenda, I'm not trying to convert you, dear reader, into some convoluted stance on whatever subject, etc.
This is their sanctuary.
They slaughter livestock by the hundreds, apparently for the fun of it, without so much as consuming an ounce of their flesh.
I hunt. Therefore I am.
Finally. Lobo's mate. Blanca. The only member of the pack allowed to run ahead of the leader, and live.
...even when there's no intention of eating it.
Lobo would've suspected my handiwork in this setup.