Sheas sé ag stad, fós ag iarraidh greim fuar an bháis a choinneáil siar.

He staggered, still trying to hold off the cold bite of death.

Bhí sé seo feicthe aige cheana, ach i gcónaí ón taobh buacach.

He had seen this before, but always from the winning side.

Anois bhí sé ar an taobh a chaill; an duine buailte; an chreiche; an bás.

Now he was on the losing side; the defeated; the prey; death.

Chuaigh Buck i gciorcal don bhuille deiridh, agus an fáinne madraí ag brú níos gaire dó.

Buck circled for the final blow, the ring of dogs pressed closer.

Bhraith sé a n-análacha te; réidh don mharú.

He could feel their hot breaths; ready for the kill.

Thit ciúnas; bhí gach rud ina áit; bhí an t-am stadtha.

A stillness fell; all was in its place; time had stopped.

Reo fiú an t-aer fuar eatarthu ar feadh nóiméid dheireanaigh.

Even the cold air between them froze for one last moment.