Swiftcurrent Creek alehouse

If she was hungry, the feeling was at the back end of a long list of other sensations. Pain was in the forefront, constantly. Breathing was a struggle given the seeping wound to her chest, the bruises to her ribs, and whatnot.
When she slept it wasn't by choice. Indra struggled there, too - and so, when voices gathered to assail her ears, she was alert and irritated immediately.
All she could do was watch and writhe, glare, and snarl lowly; so lowly that the feeling was swallowed up. It hurt to make any noise, but Indra needed them to know she was awake and listening.
And not happy.
If either of them got to close she wouldn't hold back the urge to snap those teeth.