Black and grey realism tattoos of a lion head on the middle finger and a wolf head on the ring finger of a hand with black nail polish.

Lion and wolf head tattoos on two fingers

Realism · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A hand rests against a grey fabric skirt, showing two small tattoos, one of a lion's head on the middle finger and one of a wolf's head on the ring finger. Both animals face forward and are rendered with fine stippled linework and soft grey shading to show the mane and fur. The image is in black and grey with no colour ink, and the hand fills most of the frame against a dark background.

Realism Hand Lion Wolf Animal Mane Fur

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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 yourself down on that upturned bucket, and mind the rhubarb, because this is a story about two stone heads that faced each other across a garden path for sixty years and never once exchanged a word. Nobody wrote their names anywhere. The village called them the Lion and the Grey Dog, though the mason who carved them, a quiet man called Tobias Quill, swore to his dying day that one was a wolf and would take no argument about it.

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Quill carved them the summer the old rectory wall was rebuilt, one on each gatepost, the lion on the left where the sun came up and the wolf on the right where it went down. He cut their manes and their ruffs with a claw chisel so fine that the rain got into every hair, and by autumn the moss had started to fill the grooves. Children climbed up to touch the lion's nose for luck and the wolf's ear for a dare, but nobody ever touched them both in one afternoon, for fear of getting the wrong sort of luck.

Then came the winter the frost split the right-hand post clean down the middle. The gardener, a woman named Ada Brent who kept bees and a grudge against the vicar, said they would have to come down. She wrapped them in sacking and carried them into the potting shed, one under each arm, and set them on the bench side by side, muzzle to muzzle, because her arms were tired and she was not going to lift them twice.

They stayed there in the dark, facing one another, until the spring the shed roof leaked and Ada swore she heard them grumbling. When the new gate was hung, she set them back on their posts, but she turned the lion so he looked at the wolf, and the wolf so he looked at the lion. She said it was the only thing she had ever done properly in that garden. Now, pass me that trowel.