Close-up of a small black fine-line Taurus symbol tattoo on the side of a finger, with a silver ring on the next finger.

Small Taurus symbol on a finger

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A small black Taurus zodiac symbol, a circle with a crescent-shaped stroke above it, sits on the side of a finger. The linework is thin and uniform with no shading, and the ink looks dark blue-black against the skin. The hand is photographed against a pale blue background with a silver band ring and metallic pink-gold nail varnish visible.

Fine line Hand Zodiac symbol Finger tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The bull came up the lane at dusk, which was the first wrong thing, because nothing in Hollin Dale walked anywhere after dark without a lantern. Mabel Crake heard him before she saw him, a slow tread on the wet cobbles and a sound like a sack of coal being dragged. She stood in the dairy doorway with the skimmer still in her hand and watched him stop at the water trough, horns catching the last grey light over the moor.

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He was not a big beast. Mabel had seen Friesians the size of hayricks at Settle market, and this one was narrow in the shoulder, his coat the colour of wet slate. Across his brow was a mark she first took for a brand: a ring with a crescent curled over the top, like a pen stroke that had wanted to keep going. Her grandfather had kept a ledger of such marks, the signs that told a man what kind of year he was in for. He had been a fool about most things, but never about the sky.

The ledger lived in the parlour drawer under the rent receipts. The entry for the bull's month said what it always said: steady hands, a long memory, a temper that came slowly and stayed put. Mabel read it twice by the range. Then she took the lantern out after all, because the bull had not moved, and because the lane behind him was empty of the thing she had been dreading since the funeral.

He followed her into the byre without being asked, which the ledger also had down as a habit. She latched the door on him and the wind off the moor. In the morning she wrote in the margin of her grandfather's book, in pencil so it could be rubbed out: Came up the lane. Took his supper. Stayed.