Colour tattoo of a fox in a faceted geometric style on the upper arm, with orange, red and yellow panels and black outlines on the tail and legs.

Geometric fox on an upper arm

Geometric · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A fox sits upright and looks over its shoulder, with its bushy tail curling around its body and down the arm. The body is built from flat, angular facets in orange, red, yellow and dark brown, with black accents on the ears, muzzle, legs and tail tip. The fox is centred on the upper arm against a plain skin background, with a blurred studio interior behind the wearer.

Geometric Upper arm Fox Animal Tail

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fox came to the glazier's yard on the third evening of frost, when the lamps were lit early and the sawdust was still warm. Bell Harker had been cutting glass since before her hands were steady, and she knew a sly animal from a hungry one. This was neither. It sat on the wall by the cold kiln and looked back over its shoulder at the village, as if it had been told to wait and was not sure for how long.

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Each evening after that it came, and each evening Bell left an offcut on the bench: a triangle of ruby, a sliver of amber, a dark wedge the colour of peat. She had no word for what she was doing. Her mother had always said the wood at the village edge belonged to nobody, and anything that belonged to nobody was owed a fair hearing. The fox took the pieces in its teeth and carried them off among the oaks, one at a time, never once turning its face fully toward her.

Winter went hard. The chapel glass cracked in the cold, and nobody in Lowmere had the coin to mend it. Bell walked out one dusk with the last whole pane wrapped in sacking, past the stile and under the bare trees, and found the fox waiting on a fallen trunk. Behind it, between two grey stones, it had built a low frame of her offcuts, every edge fitted, and in the centre was an empty hollow where the frost would not settle.

She set the pane into that gap and it sat as if it had been measured for it. The fox looked back over its shoulder at her once more, then slipped into the dark with its tail sweeping the snow into small gold sparks. When the thaw came, the chapel window was whole again, and nobody could say who had cut it. Bell only ever remarked that the work had been done by someone who knew the angles better than she did.