Black and grey traditional style flash drawing of a snarling wolf head with a dagger above it, an all-seeing eye in a triangle, and two roses below, on paper with no body placement shown.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Wolf head with dagger and roses flash design

Traditional · Black and grey · Flash

A pencil or ink drawing on paper of a snarling wolf head with bared teeth and a protruding tongue, set beneath a dagger whose blade passes behind an eye inside a triangle. Two outlined roses sit at the lower sides of the wolf, with leaves, a long blade running down the centre, and flame-like rays radiating behind the design. The linework is bold and the shading is soft grey with dark accents, and the design is centred on a plain sheet with a dark wooden surface visible around it.

Traditional Wolf Dagger Rose Eye Triangle Flame Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The man who came through the crossing at ten past two had a drawing in his hand instead of a passport, and he laid it on my counter like a receipt. Gunnersby's rule was simple: anything with a blade gets a second look, anything with roses gets a third, and I had never seen both on one page. It was a wolf's head, grinning with its tongue out, a dagger driven down through the top of the skull, and a single eye sitting in a triangle where the hilt should have been.

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He said his brother had drawn it in the back of a bus depot in Gdansk, and that the wolf was their grandmother's idea of a saint. I asked what the eye was watching. He said it watched the road for whoever was coming up behind him. There was no duty on paper, and the rule about drawings was not written down anywhere I could find, so I photographed it on my own phone and wrote 'art, no duty' in the margin. That kind of decision gets a person posted to the salt flats of the north office.

Outside, the frost lamps caught the wet tarmac. The roses on the page had leaves like cut bread knives, and I counted them while he waited, the way my father used to count tins in the cellar. Eleven on the left, eleven on the right, and the long blade running between them as if the whole thing were a gate somebody had locked from the inside.

When I handed the sheet back, he folded it once along the blade and tucked it into his coat. 'Your eye,' he said, 'it's not watching the road.' Then he walked off into the lamp-glow toward the lorries, and I was left pressing the stamp down on nothing but cold laminate, which felt, for a while, like the only honest thing I had done all shift.