Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Realistic wolf head on an arm

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A realistic wolf head in profile fills the frame, with its eye, nose and whiskers rendered in fine detail. The shading moves from deep black in the fur to soft grey highlights on the muzzle and cheek. The design is shown against a dark leather surface, with the arm curving through the composition.

Realism Upper arm Wolf Animal Fur Eye Whiskers

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

Sit closer, the lamp is poor and my voice has gone to gravel, so you'll have to lean in like a child at a fire. The Halvard Brothers Travelling Show had three elephants once and a tent that smelled of tallow and wet canvas. By the spring of the bad winter it had one elephant, a fiddler called Josef who drank, and a grey she-wolf named Mara who had been bought from a Hungarian drover for two shillings and a promise. Nobody wanted a wolf in a ring. Mara wanted nothing except to lie by the stove and watch the door.

Keep reading

The ringmaster, Pell, owed money in four towns. He sold the elephant at Bristol market and the fiddler walked off with the proceeds in his boot. That left the wolf, and a debt that wanted paying by Saturday. So Pell took her out past the last gaslight on the Wells road, and he opened the cage, and he said, go on then, go and be what you are. She didn't run. She stood in the wet grass and looked back at the caravan with those pale eyes, the way a person looks at a house they are not sure they are allowed to leave.

Pell went home alone and slept well for the first time in a year. In the morning the wolf was on the caravan step, shaking rain off her ruff, and in her mouth she held his one good hat. She laid it down at his boots, the way a dog brings back a stick. He never did understand whether it was thanks or a warning. The show folded in April. Mara is buried somewhere under the hill at Shepton, and I have never once seen a winter come in that she did not come back to the door to look.