Fine line tattoo of three crossed arrows with feathered fletching on the inner forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crossed arrows on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of three arrows crossing at their shafts, with one arrowhead pointing up, one to each side, and feathered fletching at the tails. The linework is thin and even, and the shading is light and soft, giving the design a faded, greyish look. The tattoo sits centrally on the forearm against plain skin, with a blurred background of skin and fabric.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The gale had come up off Hollin Bay before supper, and Marta sent her three sons down to the quay with a coil of tarred line and the old ash bow nobody had strung since their father drowned.

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Tobias, the eldest, said the bow was his by right. Piers said it was his for being quickest. Wren, who was nine and had not been asked, took three ash shafts from the woodpile, notched them, and bound them at the middle with thread from her mother's basket. She fletched each one with gull feathers she had been saving in a biscuit tin, grey and white, and the three arrows lay crossed in her hands like a bundle of kindling.

The boat was the Sorrel, two hundred yards out past the Teeth, and her lantern had gone under twice. Tobias drew first and his arrow dropped short. Piers loosed and it struck the shroud and fell into the foam. Wren stood on the wet stones, held the crossed shafts up to the wind as her father had shown her, and let fly. The line went over the rocks in one long arc, and the bound arrows did not part in the air.

When the men hauled in the rope they found three arrows still lashed at their middles, feathers ruffled and stiff with salt. Marta hung them crossed above the door, and nobody in the house ever cut the thread. Wren still says the wind was the only one who knew which arrow was hers.

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