Blue and navy linework flash design of a fox head with flowing hair above a dark feathered winged figure, arranged in a circle on a white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fox and winged figure in a circle

Fine line · Colour · Flash

The design shows a stylised fox head with flowing, wave-like hair at the upper left, facing a dark winged figure with spread feathers below. The linework is fine and dense, with the feathers and hair filled with parallel lines and the fox's face and wings partly solid. The ink is blue and navy on white, and the composition fits within a circle.

Fine line Fox Wing Feather Hair Swirl

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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

Mind the stock pot and sit down, the lot of you. No, the fox doesn't come aboard, though she's been circling us since the Dogger Bank, and she only wants what she gave away. Aye, I'll tell it, even though you've heard it from me twice already and the onions aren't going to peel themselves.

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Velda the fox had hair so long it poured down the cliffs of Hoy like spilt milk, and every morning she combed it with a bone comb carved from a whale's rib. Each loose strand floated off over the water and became a gull. Sael, the dark-winged one, came up out of the sea one spring wanting a lock of that hair to weave into a new wing. They struck a bargain on the rocks: one strand for one feather. Each dawn Velda gave a strand, and each dusk Sael gave a quill.

By midwinter the fox was thin as a furled sail, and Sael's wings were so heavy with feathers she could no longer lift them. Sael saw what the bargain had cost and tried to give every quill back, but a bargain spun cannot be unspun, so she folded her wings round the fox and sat with her in the circle of the hearth until the ice went out of the bay.

That's why the fox's hair still goes round in waves and the feathers stand up dark behind her, the two of them making one circle. Now, who's crying over those onions? Not you, Dennis. You've been sniffling since the Shetlands and I know it's not the onions.