Horse silhouette and script on a wrist
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A small black silhouette of a rearing horse sits beside the cursive words take me away, running along the inner wrist of a light-skinned arm. The script is delicate, thin and even, while the horse is solid black fill with a little detail along its outline. The image is in black ink only, shot outdoors against blurred green foliage with a dark blue sleeve at the edge of the frame.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The snow had sealed the Crooked Lantern for nine days when the grey mare came up the valley road without a rider. Mags Penhallow found her at the gate in the lamplight, breath smoking, a saddle girth cut clean through. Her brother Tam wanted the animal butchered before the cold got into the larder. Mags led it into the stable instead and fed it the oats she had been saving for spring.
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The mare would not eat for two days. On the third night, while the wind worked at the shutters, it stamped and reared against the stall boards until the lantern swung wild. Mags saw a mark on its flank under the dust, a horse drawn in soot, rearing as the mare did now. Tam said it was a bad omen. Mags said only that a creature does not carry a mark like that unless somebody once meant it to leave.
On the ninth night a thin man knocked, coat stiff with frost, and asked after the grey. Mags took him to the stable. Above the stall, scratched into the beam in a looping hand, were three words she had never noticed: take me away. The man read them aloud and went quiet, and the mare turned her head toward him as if she had been waiting nine days to be asked.
Mags opened the gate before dawn. The man swung up with no saddle, and the mare went out past the drifts, rearing once against the paling moon before she was gone up the road. By breakfast the thaw had begun. Tam found the stall empty and the oat sack untouched, and in the wet frost of the stable floor a single hoofprint pointed at the road, already softening in the sun.
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