Two views of a colourful neo-traditional fox tattoo on a forearm, framed by wheat stalks, orange flowers and a jewelled necklace.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fox with wheat and flowers on a forearm

Neo-trad · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A fox's head in three-quarter view is the central subject, shown from two angles, with wheat stalks on the left and a cluster of orange flowers and a teal gem necklace below. The fox is rendered with bold outlines, soft gradient shading and bright orange, yellow, green and teal ink, with fine dotwork forming the necklace's lace-like detail. The composition fills the frame vertically, with a blue geometric pattern behind the fox's head.

Neo-trad Botanical Dotwork Forearm Fox Wheat Flower Gem Necklace Jewel Geometric pattern

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The miller's wife had counted the sacks twice before the fox came up the lane wearing her mother's necklace. It hung low over his chest, a teal stone the size of a robin's egg set in a lace of beads, and the orange blossoms wound through the chain looked fresh enough to pick.

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Agnes Pell had not sold him a thing in four years. Foxes did not buy grain, yet there he sat on the mill step with his tail curled round his paws, holding out a single stalk of gold wheat as though it were a coin. 'A month of flour,' he said, 'for the stone.' She told him the stone was only glass. He said glass was the one thing in Little Ashcombe that kept its shine through a dry summer, and a dry summer was what they had.

So they struck the bargain on the step. She loaded two sacks onto the handcart and he pulled it to the edge of the wood with his teeth, and she did not ask how he managed the hill. When the first frost came she walked out to the hawthorns and found the necklace hanging from a low branch, its chain tied in a neat knot, and beside it a row of wheat stalks pushed into the bank, already green at the tips.

She wore the necklace to the harvest supper and nobody asked where a miller's wife had come by such a thing. Afterwards she hung it on the nail by the granary door, where the dust settled on the beads, and all winter the fox's tracks went round and round the yard without once crossing the threshold.