Watercolour-style drawing of a fox whose body and tail hold a sunset mountain landscape and night sky with stars and a moon, suitable as a tattoo design.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fox with sunset landscape design

Colour · Flash

A fox in profile, shown curled with its head turned left, is filled with a sunset landscape of layered mountains and a pale sun. The tail rises into a dark night sky with a red moon and small star sparkles, and a fine crosshair mark sits beside the fox's tail. The painted watercolour shading blends orange, red, pink and purple, with soft gradients and dark outlines on a cream background.

Fox Mountain Sunset Moon Star Night sky Landscape Sun

Find an artist for this

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 on the concrete, the lot of you, and keep your voices low, because Mrs Pell in 4B has heard every story I know and she will tell me so. This one is about a fox who lived on the hill behind the tower block, back when there was still a hill to live on. Every evening the sun went down behind it, and the fox caught the light in its coat, orange along the back, red down the legs, and pink and bruised purple where the dusk got into the fur.

Keep reading

One winter the fox grew tired of carrying the sun. It curled up in the bracken with its nose tucked under its tail, and the tail, being a long and sensible tail, kept climbing. It went up past the chimneys and past the water tower until it reached the black part of the sky, where it stopped and shook itself. Stars dropped off the end like sparks from a bonfire, and a small red moon got caught in the brush, the way a conker gets caught in a jumper.

The children of the estate came out in their nightclothes to see what the fox had done. The sun was gone, so they asked it to give them the light back. The fox said nothing. It only opened its coat, and out came the mountains, one ridge after another, laid down like the pages of a book, with a pale sun rising over them. Nobody saw the sun go out again, not properly, not while the fox kept its coat open.

Where it had lain in the frost, a thin cross was scratched into the ground, the sort you draw to mark where something is buried, or where you will find it again. Mrs Pell swears the lines are still there under the car park. Go on, then, off to bed, and if you see a fox on the stairs, don't ask it for anything. Just say thank you.