Black tribal-style design of a wolf howling upwards, drawn in bold solid shapes on a white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Howling wolf in tribal style

Black and grey · Flash

A solid black silhouette of a wolf's head tilted back, with its muzzle pointing up as if howling. The design uses bold, flowing negative-space shapes for the ears, jaw and neck, with no shading or fine detail. It is shown in black on plain white with the subject centred and fully visible.

Wolf Howling wolf Wolf head Animal

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit nearer the grate, all of you, and keep your tankards off the settle. The snow has sealed the pass and it will not care how cold your feet are. I'll tell you about the wolf that lived above Caddon Fell, the one that howled the winter out of the hills.

Keep reading

She was a black wolf with a pale throat, and every night in the drift month she came down to the sheepfolds and lifted her muzzle to the sky. Her voice rolled over the valley like a plough through wet earth. Old Agnes Crane swore the snow shifted at the sound and slid off the slopes, and the lanterns of the village answered her one by one. Nobody slept well, but nobody lost a lamb either, which is more than the farmers of Sennet could say before she came.

Then the Hallam brothers went up the fell with muskets and a bag of silver to pay for the bullet. Agnes went up first, with a lantern and a bowl of mutton fat. She found the wolf caught in a fence of rusted wire, its ears flattened with ice, its jaws clamped shut against the pain. Agnes cut her free with her late husband's knife and spoke to her the whole while, the way you'd talk to a ewe in trouble. In the morning the wolf was gone, and the pass lay open.

If you climb that road in March, you'll see the slopes still carved with long curling ribbons of snow, flung up toward the peaks where the wolf stood. Some say it's only the wind. Agnes always said it was the wolf still singing, though she never once admitted she missed the sound. Now, who wants the last of the ale before the fire goes out?