Black and grey tattoo on a forearm showing an arrow with the script words follow your arrow, a shaded feather at one end and an arrowhead at the other.

Follow your arrow script and feather on forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

An arrow runs diagonally along the forearm, with the script words follow your arrow written along its shaft in clean black lettering. A shaded feather fletching sits at the upper right, and a solid triangular arrowhead with light highlights sits at the lower left. The image is in black ink and grey tones against soft, neutral skin, with a dark background.

Lettering Fine line Forearm Arrow Feather Script Quote Arrowhead

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The goose feathers were the last thing my grandfather let me cut without him standing over my shoulder. I was nineteen, and my hand shook so badly that the first vane came away crooked, so he took the knife, trimmed it true and handed it back. 'You don't steer an arrow,' he said, turning the shaft in the grey light of the shed. 'You set the feathers right, then you let go and follow it.'

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By Saturday the lane outside Hollin Farm was full of parked vans, and somebody's cousin was tuning a fiddle in the barn. The bride's father, Ray Pell, had asked for a dozen arrows for the target butts in the orchard, a bit of daft fun for the guests, and he wanted his initials burned into every nock. I had cut the fletching at four in the morning by torchlight while the caterers argued over trestle tables.

Ray shot first, in a waistcoat with the buttons straining. His arrow climbed, hung for a moment against the apple blossom and dropped into the pond with a sound like a spoon going in a sink. Everyone cheered anyway. Then his daughter, still in her dress with her shoes in her hand, took the bow from him and drew it without a word. The arrow flew straight and thudded into the bale, dead centre, and she laughed so hard she had to sit down on the wet grass.

Grandad had been gone two winters, but I found myself saying his line under my breath as I walked out to pull the arrow free. The shaft was still warm from the sun, and the feathers I had set so carefully that morning lay flat and true against the wood.