Two black fine line arrow tattoos on forearms, one with a geometric feathered arrow and one with a long shaft and twig-like fletching, placed on the forearm.

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Matching arrow tattoos on two forearms

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two forearms are shown side by side, each with a black arrow tattoo. The upper arm carries a short arrow with a triangular head and geometric feathered fletching, while the lower arm has a long straight shaft ending in a small arrowhead, with a branching twig-like tail. The linework is crisp and black, with no shading or colour, and the bright sunlight behind the arms gives the photo a strong highlight.

Fine line Geometric Forearm Arrow Arrowhead Branch Twig Feather Matching

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wind off Bwlch Ddu had its own opinions about archery, and it took the first arrow Tamsin loosed before it had cleared the cairn. She watched the little fletched shaft tumble into the bracken below the sheep path and swore in the dialect her grandmother used for goats. Her cousin Rhys only laughed, because his own arrow, cut from a rowan limb still bearing its twigs, had gone straight as a plumb line across the gap and struck the post of the drovers' gate.

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That was the summer the pass belonged to them. Every dusk they climbed to the cairn with their bows slung crossways, and every dusk the rowan shaft flew true while the short one wandered. Tamsin fletched hers with goose feathers cut into sharp triangles, folding each one the way her mother had taught her, and still the wind had its way. Rhys offered to trade. She refused. A bow is a poor thing to share with someone who laughs at your aim.

Autumn came early over the Gap. The drovers said the pass would close by Martinmas, and Rhys went down to the valley to sell the last of the wool. Tamsin stayed at the cairn alone, cutting a new shaft from the same rowan, and when she tied the head on she found the wind had turned. It was blowing up from the valley now, steady against the slope, the way a hand pushes a dropped thing back into your reach.

She loosed it at dusk. It rose, hung against the grey sky, and came down beyond the gate exactly where Rhys stood with his cart, one hand already lifted. He picked it up, looked back up at the cairn, and raised the shaft in salute. Tamsin laughed for the first time all week. The pass was still too cold to cross, but the arrow had found its way over.