Small black fine line tattoo of an arrow with a feather fletching and a dotted shaft on the inner upper arm.

Fine line arrow with feather on the inner arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A small arrow runs horizontally across the skin, with a feather at the tail, a dotted shaft and a diamond-shaped head at the tip. The linework is thin and even, with loops along the shaft that add a flowing, infinity-like curve. The tattoo is done in black ink only, and the plain pale skin and neutral background keep the focus on the design.

Fine line Upper arm Arrow Feather Dot Loop Diamond

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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

The snow had been falling since Tuesday and the lane to Ashcombe was gone under it, so when the ostler's boy knocked at the back door with a parcel wrapped in oilcloth, I did not ask who had sent it. I took it through to the kitchen where Mrs Feeney was kneading bread and cut the twine with my good knife. Inside lay a sheaf of drawings, the top one a single arrow in fine black ink, its feathered tail drawn so lightly you could have blown it off the page. Dots ran along the shaft like a row of stitches. Someone had looped the line twice, once near the fletching and once before the head, so that the arrow seemed to be going somewhere and coming back at once.

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Mrs Feeney glanced over and went back to her dough. She said the man who had sent it had stayed in Room Four in January, paid in silver, and left before the thaw without a word to anyone. She said he had asked her, very politely, whether the north road was ever clear before March. I said it was not. She said that was what she had told him, and that he had laughed as if she had given him good news.

That night I sat by the fire with the drawings on my knee. The diamond head was the last thing I looked at, a neat little point, and I understood that the sender had known exactly where the arrow was aimed. It was aimed at this kitchen, at a door that stood open to the yard, at the road beyond the drifts. I went to the latch and found it unbarred. Outside, the lane had a single set of prints in it, going down the hill, already filling with snow.