Black ink drawing of a bear in side profile, its body filled with stripes, scallops, triangles and dots, shown as a blackwork-style design on white paper.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Patterned bear outline in black ink

Blackwork · Black and grey · Flash

A bear in side profile is drawn as a solid outline filled with different patterns: vertical stripes across the head and front leg, overlapping scallop arcs on the shoulder, rows of small triangles on the midsection, and stippled dots over the rear. The linework is crisp and even, with the patterns separated into clear zones. The image is entirely black ink on a plain white background, with no colour and no body part shown.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The bear came down from the high pastures the week the Mallory girl's ewes went missing, and nobody in Hollin Dale thought to ask where it had been living all winter. Old Ada Frith said it had been sleeping under the chapel roof, and her grandson swore he had seen it eat a whole wheel of cheese from the cold room at the back of the inn. Mostly people agreed it was a poor-looking beast. Its coat was the wrong pattern for a bear, cut in bands and fans and fields of little points, as though someone had begun to dress it for a fair and lost interest halfway.

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It was Tom Wrenn who went up after it with a lantern and a length of rope, because he had the most sheep to lose. He found the bear in the bracken above the quarry, sitting on its haunches the way a man sits when his boots hurt. It did not run. It looked at him with the flat patience of something that has been stared at before and has learned to wait it out. Tom asked it, quite sensibly he thought, what it wanted. The bear only lowered its head and nosed at the stripes along its own foreleg, as if checking they were still there.

He went home without the rope. The next morning every fence post in the valley had a little row of dark triangles chalked along its top edge, and the ewes came back down the hill on their own. Tom never did find out whose hand had made them, though his wife said she had seen the bear's shadow pass over the washing line at dusk, and that it had stopped to admire the sheets. The bear is still up there, they say, sitting in the bracken with its patterns on, waiting for someone to bring a better rope.

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