Today's OneWord: Horizon

There was a faint glimmer of moonlight painting the horizon, and I took that as a sign that we should slow down our walk and find a place to settle. We pitched the tent to the growing sound of crickets, like thousands of violin bows squeaking against stone in the night. As I set about opening cans of rations, I watched as my wife strolled toward an outcropping of rock, singing an impromptu tune between sips of canteen water.