Pine trees with campfire, tent and hammock
Black and grey · Flash
Four tall pine trees stand in a row on a horizontal ground line, each drawn with a central trunk and stacked angled branches. At the left, a campfire with curling smoke sits beside the trunk, and between the centre trees there is a small tent and a hammock slung between the two right-hand trunks. The drawing uses uniform black ink strokes on a plain off-white textured paper background, with the scene centred in the frame.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The kettle had boiled twice before Nell admitted she had forgotten the matches, so we knelt on the damp ground and rubbed two sticks together while the light went out of the clearing. Her first spark died. Her second caught a curl of dry birch bark, and she blew on it with her cheeks puffed like a bellows until the flame stood up and bit the kindling.
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We pegged the tent between the second and third trunks, where the needles lay thickest and the ground had been kept soft by years of nothing happening. Uncle Dougie had strung the hammock between the last two pines before he went home to his new hip. He said pines held a rope better than any other tree, that they liked being pulled on, and that a man who slept in one would never again trust a bed with legs.
Nell wanted to climb the tallest trunk to count the branches, so I counted for her from the fire. Eleven tiers, each one shorter than the last, until the top was only a point against a sky going the colour of wet slate. She came down with sap on her palms and announced that the trees were ladders for owls.
By morning the fire was a grey ring with one red eye in it. Nell crawled out of the hammock, pressed her face close to the cold ash, and blew until it woke. The smoke rose straight up past the top branches, because there was no wind at all. Dougie always said a straight column meant somebody was home, and I stood there in my socks feeling like we had proved him right.
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