Black ink line drawing of an arrow with feathered fletching, a curved bow and a triangular head, drawn on white paper over a wooden surface.

Feathered arrow line drawing on paper

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A single arrow is drawn in black ink on cream paper, with a curved bow line sweeping from the lower left to the arrowhead at the upper right. The fletching is made of slender leaf-like feathers with small dots along the shaft, and the arrowhead is an open triangle with a crossing line. The linework is thin and even, with the bow drawn in a heavier stroke, and the design is in black ink only.

Fine line Arrow Feather Bow Arrowhead Leaf

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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

Sit down, the lot of you. The 4.10 is running late and it will be later still before I've finished, so you may as well hear it properly. Mind the pigeon by your boot, he's been listening since Leeds.

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Old Tobias Wren was a bowyer in Carrowby Cross, back when the moor came right down to the churchyard wall. He had one daughter, Nell, who could split a crow's feather at two hundred paces and would not be told that a girl had no business with a longbow. He made her one anyway, ash and yew, and fletched her arrows with heron feathers off the mill race, each one cut into a slender leaf so the wind would never have its own way with them. Nell scratched a little dot on the shaft for every hare, every crow, and every man who laughed at her.

Then the navvies came up with their surveyors and their chains, and the company wanted the line straight across the moor, over the Wren field and through the old chapel yard. The engineer, a fellow called Hadley with a waxed moustache, laughed at the notion of a girl deciding where iron should go. So Nell climbed the ridge at first light, drew the bow to her cheek, and loosed one arrow at the grey hill on the far side of the valley. The surveyors ran their pegs along its flight, and by dusk the line had bent, just slightly, to follow it.

The arrow was never fetched. Tobias said its feathers had gone the colour of dry bracken before the first train whistled through. The company named the cutting after her, and if you ever find yourself on that line when the signal drops with nobody near it, that's Nell, still aiming. Now, there's the 4.10 at last, so mind your step getting aboard.