Fine line black tattoo of three crossed arrows on the inner wrist and forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Three crossed arrows on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a pale inner wrist and forearm carrying a small tattoo of three arrows crossed diagonally, each with a feathered tail and a pointed head. The linework is thin and even, with the fletching and shafts rendered in solid black ink. The plain light grey background and soft, even lighting keep the focus on the small design.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dearest Maud, the rain has finally let up over the Hollow Ferns, and I have spent the morning with my bow across my knees, trying to make the string sing again. Captain Oswin says I hold the bow like a man holding a stranger's baby, which is unkind, since the baby in question was only a pig. The quartermaster has counted our shafts twice and found us three short, so I have taken three of my own from the quiver and bound them with waxed thread, the way Father taught us at the Lantern Gate.

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You asked me in your last letter whether I still think of the Pass of Brennock, and I will be honest with you, I think of it every time I draw. Three of us went up the scree that night, the sergeant, young Tobin with his cracked lute, and me. We were meant to be a diversion. Instead we became a shape the enemy could not agree on, three shafts crossed over the ridge in the dark, each one flighted in grey goose feather and tipped with a point the smith in Varrow filed until it could split a hair. Tobin swore afterwards the signal fire had been lit for us. I have never been sure.

I am sending you the thread I used, and the smallest of the three, which came back to me with a dent in its head. Keep the bundle somewhere dry. If the Crown ever asks what we were, tell them we were a crossing and nothing more. I will be home before the blossom goes over the orchards at Esk, and then you may teach me how to hold a spoon.

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