Close photo of two bare feet on a light sheet, with a small black fine line arrow tattoo on the top of the right foot.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small arrow tattoo on the top of a foot

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Two bare feet rest on a cream bedsheet, with turquoise nail polish on the toes. A small arrow with a fletched tail runs diagonally across the top of the right foot, drawn in thin black single-needle style linework with no shading. The soft focus and light bokeh in the upper corners give the photo a casual, warm tone.

Fine line Other Arrow Feet Toenails

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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

Hush now, and mind the fire, for the arrow is not finished yet. You want to know why Cadwen the fletcher of Harrowdene knelt in the wet reeds that morning with three goose feathers in his teeth, cursing the wind that had carried his last shaft clean over the mere. He had bound those feathers at a slant, the way his master taught him, so the arrow would spin true, but the wind had no respect for slants or masters, and the shaft went out over the black water and was lost.

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The boy Pell, who swept his workshop for bread and was too quick for his own good, ran around the shore with his breath whistling. He found the arrow three days later, lodged in the roots of a drowned oak on the far side, where nobody went because the bottom there was soft as porridge. The shaft had not rotted. The feathers still stood in their threes. And it pointed, Pell swore to his dying day, straight at the old ford under the mist, the one the drowned bell rang over on still nights.

He did not pull it free. People said afterwards that was the cleverest thing a boy ever did. He waded back with cold feet and told Cadwen, who only grunted, and then took up his knife and began carving a small arrow into every post along the shore path, each one pointing the same way, toward the solid ground. Cadwen's own arrow is still out there in the oak, they say, and it still points true.

So when the mists come down on Harrowdene, look for the little carved arrows on the posts, and follow where they point. Mind your footing, child. Go on to bed now.