Black ink design of a stag standing beside tall pine trees on a rocky ridge, shown on a white background with no body placement.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Stag and pine trees on a rocky ridge

Black and grey · Flash

A stag stands in profile on a rocky outcrop, with its antlers raised, beside a tall pine and a smaller tree. Several more pines and scrubby foliage fill the left and lower right of the design. The artwork uses solid black silhouettes and dense stippled texture on a plain white background, with no colour.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Morag Tennant had been watching the ridge above Glen Corrie for nine summers, and in all that time the stag had never once come down to the burn to drink while she was looking. It stood on the outcrop beside the two old Scots pines as if it had been carved there, antlers thrown back against the sky, and it watched the valley the way a lighthouse watches a bay.

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The spring the dry weather came early, she stopped putting the stag in the logbook. Forestry wanted numbers: smoke, wind, the moisture in the needles. She wrote the numbers, but beside them she began drawing the animal's position each dawn, a single pencil dot on the rock, until the drawings filled a notebook. Her brother Alasdair called it foolishness, and then, when the county sent crews up the glen in July, he came up the track with a shovel and no complaint.

The fire started on a Tuesday in the scrub below the smaller pine, a spark from the night train, or so the report said. Morag saw the glow before the smoke and rang it through, but the wind swung onto the ridge and the south path was already gone. She went up the scree with a wet blanket and the notebook buttoned inside her coat. The stag was standing in the one clear patch of rock, looking not at the flames but down the slope toward her, and she understood it was waiting for her to follow.

They took the goat track to the old quarry, where the stone was bare and nothing would catch. The stag went ahead, stopping at every bend, until the smoke thinned and the glen opened below them. When the crews reached the quarry at dusk she was sitting on a block with the notebook open on her knee, and the last page held one dot, drawn in pencil, exactly where the animal had stood when the wind changed.

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