Black ink drawing of a single feather in fine line hatching on a white background, with no body placement shown.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Single feather in ink linework

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A single feather drawn in black ink, shown upright and curving slightly toward the top right. The barbs and central shaft are built up from dense parallel hatching, with lighter strokes near the edges to suggest the feather's soft form. The image is a plain white background with no colour and the subject is centred on the page.

Fine line Feather

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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

Dear Tom, the postmaster says the Ardley coach won't run again until the thaw, so this will have to go by hand with Mr Pryce's lorry on Thursday. I found the feather on the chapel roof where the lead has come away. It was grey-brown with a black tip, and I know you will say it belongs to a gull, but I have decided it came from the owl that has been sitting in the yew since you left.

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Mother has taken to leaving the back door unbolted. She says it is for the cat, but the cat has been dead since Michaelmas and she still sets a saucer out by the step. I sit with her in the evenings and we do the crossword from the Gazette, which she solves faster than I do, though she pretends it is the other way round. Nobody mentions the telegram. The ink on your last card ran where it got wet on the way up from Portsmouth, so I have copied out the bit about the rations from memory.

If you are still on the convoy, keep this in your breast pocket. Mr Pryce says a feather in a pocket is good luck for a man who keeps moving, and he has been driving that lorry since the Somme, so he ought to know. I have tried to draw it for you because I cannot press it flat without splitting the vane. The barbs run one way near the tip and the other way near the quill, which I had never noticed until I tried to copy it, and it took me three evenings.

Write soon, even if it is only a line. Mother asks after you every morning, and the owl has not come back, so I think it has gone to look for you. Your loving sister, Win.