Four small pixel-art style characters tattooed in a vertical column on the forearm, photographed in a bathroom mirror selfie.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Four pixel-art characters down a forearm

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

Four pixel-art characters are stacked vertically along the forearm, each drawn with blocky, stepped outlines. From top to bottom they show a hooded white figure, a figure in a pointed hat, a red-haired figure and a blue-haired figure, with the last two in simple flat fills. The figures are coloured in pink, red, blue and tan with dark outlines, and the arm is held up against a bathroom sink and shower area.

Forearm Pixel art Character Hood Figure

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Snow had settled on Hollin Farm for eleven days when the four of them came up the lane, their boots sinking to the shin. Ada Pruett, who ran the place alone since her father's hip gave out, counted them from the kitchen window the way she counted her ewes: the hooded one first, because it moved slowest, then the pointed hat, then the two who kept shoving each other at the gate.

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They wanted the barn. The red-haired one, Rook, said it with a sword across her back and no apology in her voice, that wolves in the Greywood had driven them off the north road and they needed a roof until the thaw. The thief, Pim, blue-haired and grinning, already had a hand on the latch. Ada had a hundred and forty ewes in that barn, heavy with lamb, and a pump that froze every night. She said so. The pointed hat, who called himself Orrin and kept producing small sparks from his fingertips, looked hurt and then delighted, as if she had handed him a riddle.

They stayed. The hooded one, who never gave a name, sat up three nights with the ewes that struggled to lamb, white sleeves rolled to the elbow, and by the end of the week the barn smelled of straw and wet wool and something faintly like cinnamon, which Orrin swore was a spell and Ada suspected was the Christmas cake she had been meaning to make for the fair. Rook split kindling. Pim fixed the pump by taking it apart and putting it back together in a different order, which worked.

On the morning the snow finally thinned, the four of them stood in the yard with packs on their backs and no road in sight. Ada went out with a bucket of warm water for the trough. The lane ran pale and empty toward the Greywood. She set the bucket down. Behind her the barn door stood open, the ewes were out in the sun, and four sets of footprints led away from the trough, each one a different size.