Fine line black tattoo of two outlined hands holding lavender and leafy sprigs on the forearm, against a brick wall.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two hands holding botanical sprigs on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The design shows two open hands, drawn in thin outline, each holding a bundle of leafy stems with small flowers, including lavender-like spikes and daisy-style blooms. The linework is single-weight and unshaded, with the ink solid black and no fill. The skin is light and the ink is set against a plain background of red brick and dark fabric, with the design placed centrally on the inner forearm.

Fine line Botanical Forearm Hand Flower Lavender Leaves Sprig Daisy Botanical

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had not yet closed the Caddan pass when Ysolde came down the last of the shepherd's steps with a goat on a rope and her sister's name still in her mouth. Nobody at the inn at the bottom would say where Marit had gone, only that she had gone up with the lavender-cutters before the first frost, and that lavender does not grow above the tree line.

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She climbed the rest of the way by the cairns. At the top stood a hut with its roof weighted down by stones, and an old woman sat outside sorting sprigs into two heaps, one of lavender and one of white daisies that had no business flowering so late in the year. Marit had made the same two heaps as a girl. The woman said that every traveller who crossed the pass in autumn left something behind and took something back, and that the pass kept count.

Ysolde held out her hands, palms up, the way you would to be given bread. The woman laid rosemary and lavender across them, then a single daisy, and told her to carry it down without crushing the stems. If she was bringing the right thing back, the woman said, Marit's hands would be waiting at the foot of the pass. Ysolde asked what the right thing was. The woman only pointed at the goat.

At the bottom, in the first lamplight of the village, Marit stood with her own bundle, flattened from carrying. They held their hands out between them, two bundles and four fingers, and neither spoke until the goat, bored with the whole business, bit through its rope and ate the daisies. They laughed about it for the rest of their lives, and the pass, the villagers say, is still counting.