Black ink dotwork drawing of three pine trees, a crescent moon, a campfire with smoke and a small tent on white paper, shown as a tattoo design with no body placement visible.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pine trees, moon and campfire design

Dotwork · Black and grey · Flash

A small black ink design on white paper showing three pine trees, one taller in the centre, with stippled dotwork shading that fades toward the base. A crescent moon sits above the trees, and a campfire with curling smoke and a small tent sit at the bottom. The linework is fine and the composition is centred with plenty of empty space around the motif.

Dotwork Fine line Pine tree Moon Crescent moon Campfire Smoke Tent Forest Camping

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

The camp was still warm when Ruth Abernethy found it, and that bothered her more than the empty tent. The pegs were in, the flysheet zipped to the top, and a billy can sat upright on a flat stone beside a fire ring of eight grey pebbles. Someone had banked the embers with wet bark. The smoke climbing from it was thin and went straight up, the way it does on still nights in the Caledonian pines.

Keep reading

The log in the hut at Glen Dorran had no entry for a party of one on the north ridge. She checked the permit book twice, then tried the radio, which gave her nothing but static and a dog barking three valleys off. Above the highest pine a crescent moon hung like a paring of thumbnail, and she thought, not for the first time that week, that the old wardens had a word for nights like this which she had never quite learned.

She crouched by the fire and pressed her palm to the stones. Warm, not hot, so whoever had gone couldn't have been gone long. Inside the tent a sleeping bag lay unrolled, boots side by side at the door, and a torch was tucked under the strap of a rucksack with a note folded around it. The capitals were careful and slanted to the left. BACK BEFORE THE MOON CLEARS THE SECOND PINE. GONE FOR WATER TO THE BURN. DON'T FUSS, RUTH. She knew that hand. It was her own, from the summer she was nineteen, and the paper was soft as cloth.

Ruth set the billy on the embers, sat down on the damp moss with her back to the trunk, and waited for the moon to clear the second pine.