Gold metallic geometric diamond with a dangling chain line across a woman's upper back, plus a feather armband on her upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Gold diamond design on a back

Geometric · Back · Colour · Photo

A woman seen from behind wears a sun hat and a white bikini top, with her face out of frame. A nested gold diamond outline sits between the shoulder blades, with a fine gold chain line running down the spine. A matching gold feather-style band is visible on the upper arm.

Geometric Back Upper arm Diamond Chain Feather Armband Bikini

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow came early to the Hallen pass that year, and by the second week of Ninemonth the carters would not go up without the chain. It ran from the last cairn at the valley mouth to the diamond stone on the summit, a line of small gold links that the old smiths had hammered from a king's debt and hung on iron hooks. Anyone could follow it blind, hand over hand, so long as the links stayed whole.

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Orla Venn was the youngest of the chain keepers and the only one who had never been up in a blizzard. Her uncle sent her with a lantern, a bag of dried plums and a grey feather he had tied to her wrist. "The eagle that nests above the stone drops one every spring," he said. "Wear it and it will know you are not a wolf." She did not believe him, but she left it on, and it was soft against her skin.

The wind hit at the fourth hook and she lost the line. She stood still as her uncle had taught her, counted her breaths, then felt along the cold metal until her fingers found a link bent flat. Someone had stepped on it. She followed the chain by counting, forty-one links, forty-two, and at sixty-three the wind dropped and the diamond stone rose out of the white, its three nested frames glowing where the lamp touched them.

The carters were waiting in the lee of the stone with their mules bunched and silent. Orla took out her knife, worked one link free from the last hook, and set it in the cleft of the stone as the old keepers had always done. "For the next one who counts," she said. No one on the pass has lost the chain since, and every spring the eagle's feather is found lying beside the link, bright as if it had been dipped in gold.