Two-panel photo of a fine line black ink tattoo of two crossed arrows on skin, with a small tattoo on the upper arm of a woman seen from behind.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Crossed arrows tattoo in fine line

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

The right panel shows a close-up of two crossed arrows drawn in thin black linework, with a light shaded fill on the arrowheads and feathers. The left panel shows a woman with short blonde hair seen from behind in a black top, with a small dark cross-like tattoo on her upper arm. The image is black ink only, with a warm, natural light in the left photo.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The summer shoot at Hollin Green had gone on since before the church roof was mended, and the straw butts were black at the centre from it. Nell Ashdown and Tobias Reeve had not spoken since spring, when he said her bow was made of cheap ash and she said his stance looked like a man waiting for a bus. Now they stood at the same mark with twelve arrows apiece and the whole parish watching from the cider tent.

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Nell loosed first. Her arrow hit gold with a sound like a dropped spoon on slate. Tobias drew slowly, and as his string came back he looked not at the target but across the grass at her, which was the most unsporting thing he had ever done. His arrow flew wide, struck the shaft already lodged in the straw, and the two of them lay crossed over the centre ring like a signpost pointing two ways at once.

Nobody cheered. The old reeve, Mr Pallister, walked out with his stick to pull them apart, but the points had gone in deep and the fletching had tangled. Nell knelt in the straw and said, "You missed on purpose." Tobias said he had not missed at all, he had aimed for where she was standing, and it had been a fair guess.

They were still out there when the light went, the crossed shafts catching the last of the sun. Mr Pallister declared the match a draw and nobody argued. The next morning someone had carved two marks into the bench beside the cider tent, and by winter the pair of them were married, which the village considered a fair result for one afternoon's bad shooting.

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