Colour tattoo of a red-maned lion cub with a black outline, placed on the calf.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Red lion cub on a calf

Calf · Colour · Photo

A lion cub's head in profile sits within a flowing curl of orange and black, with its face and fur shaded in soft orange and red tones. The fur is rendered with loose, feathered strokes, and a bold black outline frames the shape and the tail-like curve around it. The design is centred on a bare, hairy calf against a dark background.

Calf Lion Lion cub Mane

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Pull your hoods down and stop fidgeting, the rain's only warming up and the good part hasn't started yet. Mrs Abernethy kept her cart by the fish stalls every Thursday, and in the back of it, under a folded blanket that smelt of paraffin, lived a cub no bigger than a loaf of bread. His coat was the colour of a kiln brick at dusk, and when the wind came off the harbour it lifted his mane into a curl like a wave about to break.

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He would not touch the pilchards. He sat on the cart's back step with his chin on his paws and watched the awnings sag and drip, flicking his tail at every drop that fell near him. The stallholders said he was sulking. Old Harry who sold bootlaces swore the cub was counting the raindrops, and on the Thursday the river came up over the quay, he slipped out through the gap in the tarpaulin and went down the wet cobbles after the water.

Nobody saw him go in. They only saw the river carry something red and round past the bridge, turning slowly like a coin tossed for luck, and then the tail of him, black as tar, curling once around the mooring post before the current took it. Mrs Abernethy stood on the quay for a whole hour calling his name in the drizzle, and the fishermen took off their caps and waited with her.

On a wet morning, if you come early and stand where the gutters meet, you can still see him. Look down at the puddle by the bins, past your own reflection, and there is a flash of orange in the dark water, a mane spreading out and out, and a patient little face turning to see whether you have brought the pilchards.