Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small arrow tattoo behind the ear

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A side profile shows a small, solid black arrow with a pointed head and feathered fletching, running diagonally across the skin behind the ear. The linework is thin and the ink is a single dark tone with no visible shading. The warm, brownish tone of the photo and the soft focus on the hair and skin frame the tattoo as the central detail.

Fine line Neck Arrow

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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

Sit closer, the lot of you, because the wind through the arrow slits of Hollin Keep will take my voice if you let it. Maud Ferrier was the fletcher's daughter, and she could split a goose quill at forty paces. The bowmen on the wall would not stand beside her at the butts. They said a girl's hand shook when it counted. Maud's hand never shook. Only her temper did, and that was for the steward, who docked her wages for crooked shafts he never once bothered to sight down.

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The summer young Lord Edric turned sixteen, he came down to the workshop with a hunting bow and a complaint. His arrows swung left in a crosswind, and he wanted them straight by morning. Maud took one from his hand and sighted down it with her left eye shut. The head was filed thin as a fishbone, the shaft bound in red thread, and the fletching was three grey heron feathers cut to the width of a fingernail. She told him they would fly true for a hand that kept the notch to the thumb, and that his was too quick. He did not believe her until a stag broke from the birches at dusk and his first shot went clean through its shoulder.

He rode back to the gate with the arrow still in the beast and a grin across his face. The steward said a fletcher's girl could not be trusted with a lord's reckoning, so the lord paid Maud in silver, then in a grey mare, and then, because Edric was only a boy, in a promise. Maud sold the mare, kept the silver, and tucked the first heron feather into the lining of her coat. If you climb to the top of the keep tonight, you will find that arrow still wedged in the lintel above the old gate, its red thread gone brown, and a small notch cut in the ash that was never a steward's mark.