Small colour tattoo of a curled lion cub with a black outline and yellow and orange fill on the inner wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Curled lion cub on a wrist

Forearm · Colour · Photo

A small tattoo of a curled lion cub sits on the inner wrist or forearm of a light-skinned arm. The design uses a bold black outline with yellow and orange fill, and the lines are clean and even. The tattoo is centred in a close, slightly angled photo against a dim indoor background with posters and other objects.

Forearm Lion cub Lion Animal Wrist tattoo

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mairi, the boat didn't come on Tuesday either, so I have had three days with the ledger and the lamp. Mr Galbraith at the chandlery owes us for the rope and says the spring tides are to blame, which I suppose they are, since he blames everything else on them. Your drawing is pinned above the stove now, where the steam keeps it curling at the corners. The cub is folded round on himself with his tail tucked under his chin, the way Old Tam's cat used to sleep against the warm bricks of the bakehouse wall. You coloured him in ochre because I told you that is what the hill grass looks like in August, before the rain gets to it.

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Your letter said you had him inked onto your wrist in the city, where the man with the cracked spectacles held your hand flat on the table and told you it would sting like a wasp. I laughed out loud at that, alone in the kitchen, and the cat looked at me as if I had lost my wits. I wanted to ask whether he hurt much, and whether anyone asked you why a lion cub, and what you told them. But I know you, and you would answer with something clever and leave me none the wiser.

So I will tell you what happened here instead. Last week the seals came into the bay in a line, twelve of them, and sat on the skerry like a row of wet loaves. Young Ewan counted them twice and got a different number each time, and nobody could tell him he was wrong. I thought of you then, of how you used to lie on the pier and insist the grey shapes were really lions who had swum out to see what the mainland was doing.

When the boat finally comes, bring the good ink, the proper kind. I want to see your wrist in daylight, and then I'll tell you whether the cub is facing the right way.