Colour tattoo of a spotted fawn and pink blossom with green leaves on the thigh, shown against grey bedding.

Fawn and blossom on a thigh

Botanical · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A spotted fawn lies with its head turned towards the viewer, framed by pink blossom sprigs and green leaves. The linework is fine and the fawn is shaded softly in orange, brown and grey, with white dots on its back. The tattoo sits on a bare upper leg against a grey patterned duvet and pale pyjamas.

Botanical Thigh Fawn Deer Blossom Flower Leaves Vine

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The orchard wall had come down in February, so by April the cherry trees had grown out through the gap and into Hallam's lane, and nobody bothered to prune them any more. Maud Pellow walked her goats past them every morning with a stick under one arm and a heel of bread in her coat pocket. She counted the goats first, always, and then she looked at the grass under the blossom, because that was where the spotted things hid.

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That spring she found the fawn beneath the third tree. It lay flat with its chin on the ground, as if it were listening for something a long way off. White dots ran along its back like light coming through a hedge, and its ears were turned towards her. Pink petals had drifted down and caught in its neck fur. A bramble had looped round one thin foreleg, so it could not have stood if it had wanted to. Maud knelt in the wet grass and worked the thorns loose with the small knife she kept for twine, one hooked stem at a time.

The fawn did not run. It lifted its head and looked at her with a patience that unsettled her more than fear would have. When the leg was free, it tucked the foot under itself and waited, the way the old ewes waited for a gate to be opened. Maud sat back on her heels and realised she had been holding her breath. Somewhere beyond the wall a doe was calling, low and steady, and the branches above them shook their blossom loose in a soft pink fall.

Maud never told Hallam about the gap. Each April after that she left the bramble where it grew, and when the blossom came down over the lane she walked her goats through it slowly, counting petals instead of goats.