Fine line geometric tattoo of an arrow with overlapping circles, dotted lines and triangles, in black ink on the side of the ribs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Geometric arrow and circles on the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A vertical arrangement of fine black linework shows an arrow at the top, two overlapping circles, a row of dots and dashed lines, and a large triangular shape ending in a smaller arrowhead at the bottom. The lines are thin and precise, with some areas filled in with dots and small solid triangles. The tattoo is in black ink on pale skin, with the composition running straight down the side of the ribs.

Fine line Geometric Dotwork Ribs Arrow Circle Triangle Dot Dashed line Geometric shape

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had closed the high pass for nine days when the carrier came down to the inn at Hollin Gap, stamping his boots and asking for a bed. Mara Quill kept the door, the fire and the ledger, and she gave him the bench by the hearth because there was nothing else to give. He had a brass surveyor's case strapped to his back and would not set it down, not even to eat.

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On the second night he unfolded a sheet of paper across his knees and drew by the light of the fire. Mara asked what he was measuring. The moon, he said, and where it would stand when the thaw broke. There were two moons over the ridge, one old and one young, and they crossed every seventh winter. He showed her the drawing: a tall arrow pointing at the rafters, two rings laid over one another like cups on a table, a line of dots falling between them, and below that a great triangle opening downwards with a smaller arrowhead pointing at the floor. "That is the road," he said. "You only need to know which moon to follow."

In the morning the wind had dropped and the carrier was gone, the case left on the bench with one brass rod still standing in it. Mara took the rod out to the yard, set it where the drawing said, and sighted along it until the old moon sat inside the young one above the pines. Where the two rings met there was a cairn she had never noticed, half buried, and beneath it a stake of black wood with a cut arrow on its face.

She followed the stake down through the drifts to the valley road by noon. The inn kept its name and its fire. The drawing hangs above the hearth now, its corners gone yellow, and every seventh winter Mara climbs out with the case and waits for the moons to cross.