Black and grey realism tattoo on a forearm, with a wolf and a woman's face split by a geometric triangle and scattered diamond shapes.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Wolf and woman portrait on a forearm

Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A wolf's head and a woman's face share the forearm, divided by a diagonal triangular line with a sharp angle. The wolf is shaded with fine dots and soft grey tones, while the woman's eye and face are rendered in finer detail. Small diamond shapes and thin geometric lines surround the portrait on a dark background, and the skin is shown in a close-up photograph.

Realism Dotwork Geometric Forearm Wolf Woman Face Eye Triangle Diamond Geometric line

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wolf came up the slipway the night the Grey Lamb failed to come in, and Mara Tulloch, who had been mending nets on the harbour wall since the tide turned, did not get up to stop it.

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Nobody on Skerrow Quay had seen it before. It was grey as the mud at low water, and it had a way of turning its head so that one eye held the town and the other held the sea. Her brother Eli called it a stray and told her not to feed it. She fed it anyway, a tin of salt herring at a time, and it took each one with the care of something that had been taught to be careful.

By midnight the wind had swung round to the north-east and the bar off the point was breaking white in a long diagonal line, the way it always did on the chart Eli kept nailed to the net store. Mara pulled on her oilskin. The wolf went ahead of her along the shingle, stopping every few yards to look back, and where its paws touched the wet stones the foam drew away as if someone had lifted a cloth. She followed it to the lamp post at the point, where a single lantern swung on its hook, and there, in the spray, she saw the Grey Lamb's stern light rising and falling beyond the bar.

They brought him in on the flood at first light, cold and cursing and alive. The wolf was already gone. On the quay, scattered in the wet grit, lay a dozen small flat pebbles, each cut to the same sharp diamond, as if the sea had been practising shapes. Mara gathered them into her apron pocket. Eli asked what she meant to do with a handful of stones. She said she would keep them until somebody needed showing the way.