Black and grey fine line geometric arrow tattoo running down the inner forearm, with a diamond arrowhead and feathered fletching.

Geometric arrow on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A vertical arrow tattoo runs along the inner forearm, with a shaded diamond arrowhead at the top and a feathered tail with a small diamond-shaped end at the bottom. The thin shaft is decorated with small diamond and ring motifs and dotted accents. The piece is worked in black and grey with fine outlines and soft shading inside the arrowhead and feathers, set against plain skin and a softly lit room.

Fine line Geometric Forearm Arrow Arrowhead Feather Diamond Dot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The third cairn above Scarrow Gap had lost its capstone again, and Ada was already kneeling in the scree when I came up the track with the marker poles under my arm. She didn't say good morning. She held out a flat grey stone the size of a biscuit and tapped it with one knuckle, the way she used to test a bow stave to hear whether it would sing.

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Ada had been a fletcher in Kendal until her knees gave out, and she still judged everything by its line. The poles were her notion: a thin ash shaft driven into each cairn, a brass diamond bound at the head, and a tuft of grouse feather lashed at the foot, so walkers in cloud could see the route stacked above them like arrows pointing home. Every shaft got a ring of waxed thread at each hand's width and a dot of paint where the path forked. She sat on an upturned crate with her pitch pot and her quills while I hammered each post into the stones.

The cloud came down on the Thursday, thick enough to swallow a dog. Two students from the college wandered past the scree, and I had to go after them with a torch and a whistle, but it was the poles that brought them back. They could see the next diamond from the one before, then the next, leading them down off the top the way a good shot draws the eye along a shaft. Ada heard about it from her chair and said nothing. She only reached for another quill.

Before the autumn snow I drove the last pole at the bottom of the path, where the feathers finally end and the valley road begins. Ada made me cut a small diamond into its top with my penknife. "Now they can't miss it," she said, and went back to her quills.