Close photo of a fine line black tattoo of two vertical arrows on the inner forearm and wrist, with a thin silver bracelet below it.

Two small arrows on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two small arrows point downwards along the inner forearm, one above the other, with fine black linework and simple fletching and arrowheads. The ink is solid black with no shading or colour, and the wrist sits in the lower half of the frame beside a thin silver chain bracelet against a grey, out-of-focus background.

Fine line Forearm Arrow Bracelet

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Tom, the goose feathers came up from Ashby Farm on Tuesday, and I have been sorting them by the bend in the quill the way you taught me, though my eyes are not what they were. Mrs Pell at the edge of the wood says the oaks have dropped their acorns early, which means a hard winter, and she asks after you every time I pass her gate with the barrow.

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I have finished the two you asked for. The first is ash, straight as a bell rope, with a bodkin tip filed so fine you could thread a needle on it. The second is birch, lighter, for the lad who shoots at the rabbit fence. Each has three feathers bound with the waxed thread from the drawer, and I set them point down in the bucket by the door so the shafts stay true while the glue sets. I know you think I fuss over the tips.

The wind came off the water last night and knocked the bucket over, so this morning I went out to the yard to fetch them. They had landed tip to tip in the mud, pointing at the same spot where you dug the first fence post when you were seven and swore you had found gold. I stood there a long while with the rain on my neck, thinking one of them ought to go on to a target and the other ought to stay where I could keep an eye on it.

Come home before the frost, and bring the good knife. I have strung the spare bow and hung it in the back room, and the pair is waiting for you on the nail by the door, both still pointing at the boards you wore smooth as a boy, as if they only need telling where to go.