Small black fine line tattoo of a pair of antlers forming a loose circle on the inner forearm near the wrist, with a leather strap bracelet worn above it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small antler outline on inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph of a small black tattoo of two antlers curving towards each other to form an open circle, placed on the inner wrist. The linework is thin and solid, in black ink with no shading. The arm is raised against a dark green, blurred outdoor background, and a brown leather bracelet with embroidered detail sits just above the tattoo.

Fine line Forearm Antler Circle Deer

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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

Harold Tully found the antlers in February, half-sunk in bracken at the edge of Greyholme Wood, and he knew at once they had come from the same beast. The tines on the left had been snapped off by something, but the beams still curved in the old way, as though reaching for each other across a gap no wider than a man's wrist.

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The shop on Market Street sold boot leather and paraffin, and in the back Harold kept a bench where he made buttons and combs from whatever the countryside gave him. His daughter Joan came in every Saturday to sweep, and she asked what he meant to make of them. He said nothing yet. He turned the pieces under the bench lamp, sawed a clean cut through the burr, and found the bone inside pale and close-grained, like good cheese.

The gamekeeper had told him the story in the Crown the previous autumn. Two stags had locked horns on the ridge above the reservoir, the tines jammed so tight that neither could pull free, and the wood had taken them both down. Harold had not believed it then. Now he set the two pieces side by side and tried to fit them, and found they would not lock at all. They only curved, open, holding their shape.

He did not make a comb. He drilled a single hole through each crown, threaded a length of brown leather through, and gave the pair to Joan on her birthday. She hung it on the nail by the shop door, and every morning after that the first thin light off Market Street came through the gap and laid a small dark ring across the floorboards for her to sweep around.