Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Wolf head in profile line drawing

Blackwork · Black and grey · Flash

A stylised wolf head faces left in profile, with its ears, eye and snout outlined in clean black linework. The fur along the neck and cheek is rendered with long, tapering strokes that sweep backwards, and a few sharp black shapes extend behind the head. The image is entirely black and grey against a mottled grey backdrop.

Blackwork Wolf Animal Profile Head Fur

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the lamp, love, it's the last of the paraffin. Now. You want to know about Ash. Everybody who ever sat on the bottom board of the big top wants to know about Ash, and they never get the right end of it.

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The show was finished by the spring of that year. Carrow's had nine wagons once and by then it had two, a generator that coughed, and a ringmaster who drank his tea with gin when he thought nobody was looking. The wolf came to us as a cub from a man in Skegness who owed Frank money. He grew into that great grey head you could hang a coat on, and when the lights came up he'd sit on his stool and look out over the sawdust like a judge who'd seen every cheat in the county.

The last night we played was a wet one in a field outside Boston. Eleven people in the tent. Frank stood in the middle of the ring with his hat in his hands and told them the wolf would do the last trick, the one with the hoop of fire, and nobody moved. So Ash stood up. He didn't wait for a cue. He walked out past the lamps, past the dropped cards and the empty chairs, and he put his head through the flap into the rain, and every one of those eleven people saw the fur along his neck lift and fall backwards, long and slow, like something running that wasn't running at all.

He never came back to the wagons. Frank said he'd gone to the marshes. I've always thought he simply went home, wherever that was, and that the hoop of fire was only ever for us to watch him leave.