Black and grey dotwork tattoo on a lower leg showing mountains, pine trees and a crescent moon inside a circular compass frame, with the words 'You are home' beneath.

Mountain and moon badge with 'You are home' lettering

Dotwork · Calf · Black and grey · Photo

A circular badge shows snow-capped mountain peaks, a row of pine trees in the foreground, and a crescent moon above, with a small compass star on the right edge. The linework is fine and combined with stippled dotwork for shading, especially in the trees and the moon. The tattoo is entirely black and grey and sits centred on the front of a lower leg, with the phrase 'You are home' in capitals below the scene.

Dotwork Lettering Calf Mountain Pine tree Crescent moon Compass Lettering Forest

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The moon came up over Carn Dubh an hour before the radio woke, and Megan Thorne logged it anyway, because the ledger at Lookout Four had a column for weather and nothing for the things she actually watched. Eleven seasons she had sat in the glass cab on the ridge, reading the tree line for smoke and boiling tinned soup on a paraffin ring. Her brother Tomas kept the tower two valleys east, and at nine each night their handsets crackled to life for ten minutes of wind speeds and gossip about the forestry men.

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On the third Sunday of October, nine came and went without him. She tried the set again at half past, then at ten, the static hissing like a kettle left on too long. Snow had already whitened the peaks that afternoon, and the pines below stood black against the silver ground. She took the bearing from the brass compass plate bolted to the sill, the little star pointing east, and decided she had waited long enough.

The path down was a grey ribbon she knew by the shape of its roots. Halfway, she caught woodsmoke on the wind and her heart lurched, but it was only the cabin chimney at the bottom, lit low. Tomas was asleep in his chair with his boots still laced and a pencil loose in his fingers, the ledger open on his knee. Beside the last entry he had written in square capitals: SMOKE NONE. ALL QUIET. She sat on the arm of the chair and listened to him breathe.

She eased the pencil from his hand and wrote beneath his line, in the margin where nothing was ever recorded: YOU ARE HOME. Then she closed the ledger, banked the stove, and let the moon keep watch over the valley for both of them.