Woman seen from behind with a large Japanese-style dragon tattoo in grey and gold tones across her back, with a tribal armband on her upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dragon tattoo across a woman's back

Japanese · Back · Mixed · Photo

A woman with dark, curly hair is photographed from behind against a dark blue backdrop. A large dragon with a long, coiling body runs down her back, shaded in grey, brown and gold tones with fine detail along its scales and mane. A tribal armband sits on her upper arm, and a small dark tattoo is visible low on her back.

Japanese Back Upper arm Dragon Armband Tribal Back piece Hair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit nearer, the fire won't last past midnight, and you'll want the end of this before the wind turns. The winter the river froze to its stones, a serpent came climbing the Narrow Road from the east. Carters knew him by the smoke that rose off his back at dawn, and by the way the snow along the verge went gold where his scales had brushed it.

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At the Vashk crossing sat a clerk named Ilse Marrow, who kept a ledger of every mule, bale and name that passed. She had seen tax men faint and generals weep, so she was not much troubled when the great creature lowered its head over the barrier and asked, in a voice like a slow bell, for leave to pass into the lowlands. Its mane was grey as ash, its body banded in brown and burnished bronze, and every scale had a fine edge, like the tooth of a comb.

Papers, Ilse said. The dragon regretted it had none. It had a hoard, it explained, buried under the mill at Tessin, and the mill had been sold to a family who did not know what lay beneath the floor. It asked only for a stamp. Ilse considered the ledger, the weight of the seal in her hand, and the long gold body waiting patiently in the snow. She wrote: one serpent, lowland bound, carries no goods, weight unknown.

Years later the mill at Tessin was pulled down for a road, and the workmen found nothing but river stones and a single gold scale the size of a plate. The stamp still hangs in the crossing house, faded to the colour of weak tea. When a carter asks what I want for a fair crossing, I tell him the truth. A dragon came through here once with nothing to declare, and it was the only honest traveller I ever logged.