Forearm tattoo of two black-clad figures crouched together against a red geometric triangle background, in a bold illustrative style.

Two crouching figures on a red triangle pattern

Geometric · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

Two stylised black figures sit crouched and close together in the centre of the design, one with its head bowed against the other. The background is filled with a red mesh of interlocking triangles, and thin white lines pick out the folds of the clothing. Solid black ink and flat red colour dominate, with clean, simple outlines.

Geometric Forearm Figure Triangle Geometric pattern

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hush now, and pull that stool nearer the stove, because the wind will try the door again before I'm done. You want the tale of the Hallam cousins, the winter the snow came up to the top rail of the gate? Good. Tobias was fourteen and thought himself a man, and young Wenna was nine and thought herself a bird, so when the ewes went wandering up the high field, it was the pair of them who went after. Old Mrs Pryce had strung red netting over the hay stack that autumn, knotted in little triangles to keep the crows off, and it was that same netting the storm caught hold of when it came roaring over the ridge.

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They crouched in the lee of the stack with the snow hissing down the back of their collars. Tobias pulled his cousin in tight and bent his head down against her shoulder, and she pressed her face into his coat so she wouldn't have to watch the sky go white. Neither of them said a word about being frightened. Men of fourteen don't, and girls of nine don't need to. They just stayed bent over like that, two dark shapes against the red, while the wind worried at the netting above them until every knot sang.

They were found at first light, both of them asleep, the netting frozen stiff over their heads like a window of stained glass. The ewes were in the hollow beyond, every one of them alive. When Tobias woke he swore he'd only been resting his eyes, and Wenna swore she'd been keeping watch. Mrs Pryce cut them loose with her big shears and said nothing at all, which in this parish is the kindest thing anyone can say. Now mind the fire, and let that door be.