Nico had quickly learned something he had that was as much a blessing as it was a curse. He couldn't die. As the wolves tore him apart, ripping through muscles and bones away, they dug deep into his chest cavity with reckless fervor. They broke open his rib cage snapping wide apart as if opening a clam and feasted upon his innards. He could feel them eating away up towards his heart bite by bite. Every moment was pure agony. He would've screamed by his lungs were missing chunks and all that came out was bloody gurgling. His arms and legs were either broken or missing altogether.
A sound of cracking echoed, reminding him of someone breaking apart chicken bones.
There were no chickens unfortunately and bones were indeed being broken. It was his. The beasts having aimed for his marrows and slurped it up like a delicious treat's filling. The pain was all-consuming and kept him rooted in this horrific moment. It's bite keep him all too awake to this scene of unending horror. He couldn't fall unconscious. Even death would've been blessing at this point. Yet, the final sleep escaped him no matter how much he longed for its embrace.
There was no possible way for a human to survive in his state, missing a majority of their flesh and organs, not to mention the blood loss. He should've been dead long ago. But he didn't die. No, he was all too alive and aware as the wolves scattered him across the plain in broken pieces. The only part of him relative intact was his head and even that was heavily damaged as he was missing his entire lower jaw, scalp and the left eye. Only his right remained in relatively good condition and it had stared unblinkingly the entire time, and his torn arm lying 20 feet away. He guesses they weren't interested in a frozen meal and desired fresh meat.
It felt like an eternity of suffering, the chill of winter mercifully enough helped to deaden his exposed nerves and numbed the pain. The wolves had left after finishing their meal, sparing naught a glance to their fallen. He didn't know how, but he was still alive. If you could call something that was nothing more than half a bloody skull with one eye alive. He didn't notice it at first because of all the pain, but he felt an itching all over his "body". He felt an intense feeling of heat build-up within before it turned into a burning sensation. Pure lava coursed through his veins and the itching intensified until it felt as if a million ants were crawling beneath his skin.
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Suddenly his field of vision doubled. His other eye had grown back. The more his body regenerated the more burning and itchiness he could feel. As soon as he got a nub of an arm back, he flopped into the snow, dragging his upper body with only one limb and a hollow chest cavity into the biggest pile. The cold provided momentary relief, but he was being driven mad by the burning and pain. His screams can out in weak wheezes as his lungs were still missing. He slammed his face into the snow and shoveled it down his empty gullet, his arm packing it around his newly formed heart.
Blood trailed around him as the organ pumped away with no container for it just open valves. When his arm fully formed with a proper hand and nails he scratched with all the force of a madman, ripping open gashes on his naked chest and throat. The skin had easily broken, but he didn't mind. All he knew was he had to get rid of this feeling. Yet his momentary reprieve came with a harsh repercussion as the feeling only increased where he had opened the wounds.
His organs had formed, but they dragged on the ground behind him as he crawled with both hands towards a larger mound of snow. When his hands lost purchase he just continued you with his chin and shoulders. He was like a man possessed he ignored all the snow. Some rocks hidden underneath the snow had stabbed into his intestines, but he didn't mind as they got tangled. His new fingernails had broken and peeled back, yet he continued across the ground.
A leg had grown by the time his fingernails had fallen off for the third time. He was close now, only a dozen feet away. He got up on unsteady feet and hopped his way there. He had stepped onto something soft that squished beneath his weight. It was crushed now and gave off a foul stint that made his eyes teary, but he recognized it immediately. It was his stomach that the wolfs didn't care to eat. Shock and horror shook him out of his madness. He would've thrown up, but his new stomach didn't have any content. Yet rationality quickly left him once more as the sensation bit away at his sanity.
His screams were muffled by the snow still in it. He tore his eyes away from the wolves leftover meal and droved into the snow mound with his one leg. He buried himself within it, clawing his way ever deeper. The cold, pain, and exhaustion finally got to him as numbness finally soothed away his burning itchy.