Arm with a colourful traditional-style sleeve of a rabbit and an animal design on the forearm and upper arm, worn with a white camisole and belt.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Colour animal sleeve on an arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A woman's arm and torso, with no face visible, shows a bold sleeve of animal and floral designs on the upper arm and forearm. A rabbit and a darker animal figure sit among leaves, with heavy black outlines and filled colour in greens, reds and browns. Tattooed skin also appears at the upper chest above a black lace top, and a white camisole, belt and stacked silver bracelets complete the frame.

Traditional Upper arm Forearm Chest Rabbit Animal Floral Leaves Sleeve

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Marta had been counting the hares on the sign since breakfast, because counting kept her from listening to the wind. The board above the door of the Ferrier's Rest showed a hare among oak leaves, its red paint gone the colour of rust, and the snow had drifted so high against the porch that nobody had come up the lane in three days.

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Her father had taken the last coach out before the pass closed, leaving her the keys, the ledger and one guest who had paid in advance and never come down. Room four. She carried up a tray of mutton broth and found the door ajar, the bed made, and the window fogged over with the outline of a long-eared head, drawn in breath. Beside it, something heavier stood with its arms folded, watching the room the way a keeper watches a gate.

She stood there a while. The guest's coat hung on the hook and his boots steamed by the grate. The ledger in her apron said Mr Lowe, one night, paid in silver, and the silver was still in the tin under the bar. Downstairs the fire had sunk to a red sulk. She set the tray on the sill and went for the lamp, and when she came back the window was clear, the shapes gone, and in the frost on the glass someone had pressed a single oak leaf flat.

She knew then what he was. Her grandmother had talked of the hare-keepers who walked the high country in winter and paid their way in carved wooden hares, always found on the hearth at dawn. Marta tucked the leaf into the ledger beside his name and kept the broth warm all the same, because the pass would open in spring, and a debt paid in silver was still a debt owed.