The council, a gathering of the sanctuary's most steadfast and wise, had risen to the challenge of governance with a grace and efficiency that filled me with a quiet pride.
Their diverse expertise, from agriculture to security, from medicine to education, had coalesced into a governing body that was more than the sum of its parts.
Under their watchful eyes, the day-to-day operations of the sanctuary had evolved into a well-oiled machine, each cog turning in harmony with the next.
This newfound autonomy of the sanctuary had afforded me a luxury I hadn't dared to dream of in the early days of our struggle for survival—time.
Time to think, to plan, and to look beyond the immediate horizon.
My role had subtly shifted, from the hands-on leader who steered every decision to a guardian of the sanctuary's broader vision.
