In the first draft,  Moirin was an unnamed secondary character. Except I decided that it didn’t make sense having her just show up. So I am explaining why. Here is a longish snippet from the first scene.

Moirin woke with a start, cold sweat running down her spine. She sat up and stared blindly at the dark cottage, still trapped in the vision. Her, a group of young warriors in a place that wasn’t the remote mountain valley she called home. A thread of darkness, of doom, surrended them. Moirin frowned. She wasn’t certain if the doom would be caused by her leaving her valley, or if staying would be the cause.

She shook off the last vestiges of the vision and pulled away the pelt. She shivered when the cold night air hit her legs. She briefly considered going back to bed, but she dismissed the temptation. Experience had taught her that sleep eluded her after a vision.

She slid out of bed, her bare feet hitting the stamped earthen floor. Shivering, she pulled on a deerskin tunic and a pair of moccassins, before walking to the door. She rolled up the large piece of skin that worked as door, and stepped outside.

She gulped in the cold night air. The valley was dark and silent around her. The animals were asleep and the birds hadn’t arrived yet. Only she was awake. And she had a choice to make. Did she stay or did she go? Moirin shook her head. She refused to take sides in the war that was ripping the clans apart, despite the occasional attempt to change her mind, maybe it would have been different if the clans had sent women instead of warriors, but they hadn’t.

She knew that there were people that viewed her refusal to take sides as a betrayal, but she had been old when the war began, and she was older now. Maybe my presence would have stopped the war earlier. Or maybe the visions and the violence would have ripped my sanity to shreds. She exhaled. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t change the past. But I can change the future.