Pencil sketch of a wolf head with branching antlers and long feathers trailing from its muzzle, drawn on white paper as a tattoo design.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Wolf with antlers and feathers sketch

Black and grey · Flash

A detailed pencil drawing of a wolf's head, with its eyes, fur and muzzle rendered in dark, sketched linework. Thin branching antlers rise from the top of the head and fade into loose lines, and long feathers hang from beneath the jaw. The image is in black and grey on a pale sheet of paper, with the design centred and angled across the frame.

Wolf Antler Feather Branches Eye Fur

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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

Sit down, the lot of you, and let the bride's uncle stop shouting about the bar tab, because this is the story about the wolf, and nobody tells it right after the second glass. Up past the peat cutting, where the pines give up and the heather starts arguing with the rock, there was a wolf with a crown of bare branches growing from his skull. Nobody knew if the forest had planted it there or if he had taken it off a dead stag and never let go. Long feathers hung from his jaw, one for every wedding he had crept past in the dark, and he had been to a great many.

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Now, the miller's girl Ada was marrying a boy from across the loch, and the whole glen came up the track with lanterns and a fiddle tuned out of true so the dead would dance too. Halfway through the reel the fiddler stopped. The wolf was sitting by the gate, grey as ash, his eyes lit the colour of a fire going out. Ada's father reached for the gun above the door. Ada set down her bouquet, walked across the wet grass in her good boots, and said, "You've come to see if I belong to this hill." The wolf said nothing, which is what wolves say when they are being polite.

So she asked what he wanted, and he lowered his antlers, which I have never seen a wolf do before or since, and pointed with his nose at the barn lintel. A swallow's nest sat there, empty since spring, with one white feather tangled in the straw. Ada pulled it free, tucked it into the feathers under his chin, and took her husband's hand back to the reel. The wolf stayed at the gate until the lanterns burned down. When the first grey light came over the tops, there was a new feather on his jaw, and the old men still argue about whose wedding it was.