Black and grey fine line arrow tattoo running down the inside of a forearm, with a chevron head and stacked feather marks on the shaft.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Arrow tattoo on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a thin, solid black arrow tattoo running vertically along the inner forearm, with a pointed chevron head at the top and a bottom fletching. The shaft has short angled marks spaced along its length, and the linework is crisp and even. The forearm is held up in the foreground against a wooden floor, with the wrist and hand visible and part of a person's legs and trainers in the background.

Fine line Geometric Forearm Arrow Feather Arrowhead

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Tomasz had been walking the line for nine days when the rain finally came sideways off the moor and filled his boots. The boundary was a dotted thing on the Admiralty chart, a series of posts that the two counties had argued over for forty years, and his task was to find each one and cut an arrow into its face so the next man would know which way the stone pointed. He carried a hatchet, a tin of lime, and a ledger in which he wrote every post in pencil that the rain could not wash out.

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On the eleventh post he found an old arrow already there, worn almost smooth, its chevron head pointing north into Carrow Fell. Someone had cut small notches down the shaft, three on the left and two on the right, and beside them a stranger hand had scratched a date he could not read. He sat on the wet heather with his back against the stone and worked out what the notches meant. They were not measurements. They were a count of the men who had crossed here at night with sheep, or salt, or letters, and each notch was a crossing that had been paid for and never written down.

He thought about that for the rest of the afternoon, the hatchet knocking against his hip with every step. When he reached the twelfth post he did not cut a new arrow. He cut a single notch beside the old one, then sat down in the lee of the stone and waited for the light to go, the way the other man must have done, listening for the sound of hooves coming up from the valley.