Black fine-line script lettering and a dragon sketch tattooed along a forearm, with a second small dragon outline near the wrist.

Script quote with dragon sketch on a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The forearm carries a handwritten-style script quote in black linework, running diagonally across the skin. A dragon drawn in thin outline sits at the lower left beneath the text, and a smaller dragon outline appears near the wrist at the top right. The ink is black on pale skin against a brown fabric background, with even, simple composition and soft natural light.

Lettering Fine line Forearm Dragon Script Quote Sketch

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The herring boats came in late that year because the bay had frozen to the lip, and nobody on Skerrow quay had seen the old dragon of the Head since the first hard frost. Its fire had kept the harbour soft for longer than anyone's grandmother could remember, and when the smoke stopped rising from the cliff, the fishermen said it had gone to sleep the way old things do.

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Nell Garrow was eleven and not afraid of heights, so she took a loaf wrapped in sacking and a jar of mutton fat up the goat path to see for herself. The cave mouth was grey with rime. Inside, the dragon lay curled like a dropped rope, its scales the colour of wet slate, and when it breathed it made a thread of smoke no thicker than a needle. It opened one eye and asked her what she wanted. She said the children were cold, and the dragon said that was a poor reason to climb a cliff in January, but it did not send her away.

She sat with it through the night and fed the fat into a clay dish, one spoonful at a time, so the flame would not be smothered. The dragon talked little. Once it said that snow comes after fire, and that even dragons have their ending, and Nell told it that her father said the same of fishermen, which made it laugh, a sound like a bellows letting go. By morning there was only a coal left in the dish, red at the heart and grey at the edges.

She carried it down the path wrapped in her shawl and walked the length of the quay. At every doorway a neighbour held out a hand, and the coal was passed from palm to palm until the first boat's stove was lit. Out on the bay the ice cracked open in a long black seam, and the snow that had been falling all night settled on the water and did not melt.