mile 703, Sedona AZ

I rounded the bend to find greg emphatically poking a prickly pear. "What are you doing?" "I want to be blooded by a cactus," he said, squeezing the pinprick, looking for red. But there was red everywhere. I bent down and picked up a piece of it at his feet. Running the rock through my fingers, I moved on up the path, leaving him to study his wound.

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