Black tribal-style design drawing of a howling wolf beside a dreamcatcher, with feathers and beads, shown as a standalone design with no body placement.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Wolf and dreamcatcher feather design

Blackwork · Black and grey · Flash

A solid black line drawing of a howling wolf's head rising beside a dreamcatcher-style circle with a woven web pattern. Long flowing strands, feathers and beads trail down from the wolf in a curved, tribal-inspired composition. The design uses bold black fill and fine line detail on a plain white background.

Blackwork Wolf Dreamcatcher Feather Bead Tribal

Find an artist for this

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

Mrs Ada Pell kept the boarding house at the end of Gullwick Lane, where the cliff path gave out into shingle. Every guest who came for the summer was given the room under the eaves, and every one of them complained about the wind that climbed the stairs at night. She hung a hoop of willow over the bed, woven with waxed thread, and told them it would catch whatever the wind brought.

Keep reading

A man named Tobias Renn came in October with a fiddle case and no money. He paid in feathers, grey gulls' feathers he had gathered off the rocks, and he strung them from the hoop until it hung like a small dark moon. Mrs Pell did not ask him why. She had heard the wolf the autumn before, a long howl off the headland where no wolves had lived for a hundred years, and she knew the sound came in with the tide and went out again.

That night the howl rose from the sea wall and Tobias sat up, listening. The jet beads on the strings clicked together like small bones. He went down in his stockings and found the front door open to the dark, and Mrs Pell on the step with a lamp that would not light.

"It wants its feathers back," she said. "They are what it sings through." He untied them one by one and laid them on the step, and the wolf went quiet. In the morning the hoop was bare and the room smelled of salt, and nobody complained about the wind again.