Black and grey crescent moon tattoo with a black cat silhouette and a swirling tree on a person's upper back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crescent moon with cat on upper back

Back · Black and grey · Photo

A crescent moon sits on the upper back, with a solid black cat silhouette perched inside its curve and a swirling, stylised tree beside it. Small star shapes and fine wisps of line sit around the moon's edge. The moon is shaded in soft grey gradients, and the cat and tree are rendered in solid black ink against the pale skin.

Back Moon Crescent Cat Tree Star

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cat was already on the sill when I climbed up to the greenhouse, sitting in the curve of the great mirror where the morning light pooled thickest, as if somebody had cut her out of black card and set her there to wait. Her name was Ffion, though nobody in Tycho Reach agreed on the spelling, and in eleven years she had never once asked permission for anything.

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The mirror was called the crescent, though it had been a dull grey sheet when we unfolded it from the lander. Its edge had pitted over the decades, tiny silver scars from old dust strikes spreading across the metal like stars, and every morning I tilted it a fraction so the sunlight would fall through the glass roof onto the ash. The ash was the last tree anyone had carried up from Earth. Dilys had raised it from a seed in a jam jar, and it had grown twisted and stubborn, its branches curling back on themselves like the handwriting of someone who had learned to write in a hurry.

The dust came on the eleventh day of the grey season, when the comms went quiet and the air outside turned the colour of wet slate. We sealed the hatches and waited. Dilys sat with her back against the ash's trunk, humming something I didn't know, and Ffion came down from the mirror to curl against her knees. When the storm finally thinned, the greenhouse glass was smeared and the crescent had lost a whole arc of its shine.

I climbed up with a cloth and a litre of distilled water, meaning to bring the metal back to silver. Instead I stopped on the sill, because the dust had settled everywhere except in one clean hollow, the exact shape of a cat who had sat through the worst of it. I left it there, and the light came through the glass the way it always had.