Black and grey tattoos on a forearm
Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A man walks along a concrete-walled street, seen from behind, carrying a black leather backpack. Black and grey tattoos cover the forearm and part of the upper arm, including what appears to be an animal head with shaded fur and a small bird above it. Lettering is visible lower down the arm, though it is too small to read clearly, and the photo is taken in soft natural light.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Parn had been counting the hens for three days before he admitted the fox was taking them one at a time, and not for hunger. The bodies were left whole on the wall of the orchard, heads turned towards the village as if to make a point. Nobody in Hollin Wood Edge wanted to hear it from a boy of eleven, so Parn took his grandmother's lantern and went up past the last stile, where the beeches gave way to bracken.
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The fox was waiting on a fallen trunk, grey at the muzzle, its fur shaded dark along the spine like soot pressed into wet clay. A small brown bird sat on the branch above it, unbothered, and it was the bird that spoke first. "He wants to know why you have come without a basket," it said. "Foxes do not trade with boys who carry nothing."
Parn had brought a question instead. He asked why the hens were left lying where they could be seen. The fox looked at him for a long time, then said the village had taken its eggs for a generation and never once asked whose nest they were. That was the bargain, and the bargain had been broken. Parn did not know what a bargain was worth to a fox, but he knew his grandmother had hidden two hens from the tithe-man with a lie, and that the lie had been kept by the fox's silence.
He walked home at first light with an empty basket and a promise he could not yet keep. The orchard wall was bare that morning. On the stile someone had left a single brown feather, and the bird had gone.
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