Black and white line drawing of a bow with five arrows fanning out from a central point, with feathery plumes at the tips of the arrows.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Bow and arrows with feathered plumes

Black and grey · Flash

A linear drawing of a curved bow, strung and wrapped at the grip, with arrows radiating from a single point at its centre. Five arrows fan upwards with feathery plumes, and the arrows below the bow have pointed heads. The drawing uses fine black ink with light hatching and has no colour and no body placement.

Bow Arrow Feather Plume Design

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You want to know about the bow, then sit down out of the wet, because the rain on Harrow Lane has been coming sideways since Tuesday and it's not going to stop for either of us. My grandfather made that bow the winter the mill burned. He strung it with gut from a heifer the farmer's wife couldn't keep alive, and he wrapped the grip in waxed linen so it wouldn't sweat in a fist. Fine work. Nobody ever bought it, mind. He kept it on two nails above the hearth for thirty years and told everyone it was for a man who hadn't come back yet.

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So when the Dunmore girl came to the stall in the square, soaked to the bone, asking for a bow that would shoot straight into the wind, he took the thing down and put it in her hands. She didn't want to pay. She had a bag of copper and a sister in the workhouse at Cray, and she wanted the bow more than she wanted to eat. He let her have it for the price of the bread he'd have thrown out anyway. She fletched the arrows herself that night, plumes from the rookery behind the church, five of them cut and set in a fan like a hand of cards, and she left them on his bench with a note he couldn't read because she'd written it in the wrong alphabet.

I'll tell you how it ended, because you've been patient. The sister came out of Cray in spring. The bow went on the wall of the chapel, not in a museum, because the girl said a thing made to hit a mark should hang where people pray for their aim. And the old man, when they asked him what he'd lost, said he'd lost nothing, he'd only been keeping it warm.