Black ink flash sketch on cream paper showing a wolf head, a skull, a woman's face with a hand, a dagger and scissors, with no body placement shown.

Wolves, skull and woman sketch flash

Black and grey · Flash

A pen-and-ink design sheet with several separate drawings: a snarling wolf head pierced by a dagger, a horned animal skull, a wolf's head in profile, and a woman's face with a hand raised near her cheek. The linework is detailed with hatched shading, and the drawings are in black ink on cream paper with no colour. The sheet is arranged as a loose collage, with a dagger and a pair of scissors placed around the edges.

Wolf Skull Dagger Owl Woman Hand Scissors Arrow

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The owl-eyed wolf had been at the lambs again by the time I reached the ford, so I went down with my father's short sword and his fleece shears, because a girl of nineteen in the hill country above Dodona makes do with whatever hangs on the wall. The beast was not running. It sat on the flat stone with a hare pinned under one forepaw, and it watched me come the way the elders watch a stranger who has walked into the wrong feast.

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I should have thrown the sword from farther off. I stepped in too close, and the blade went through the ruff under its jaw and stuck in the bone above its eyes, three of them, pale as river mud. It did not howl. It only turned its head slowly, as if to find where I had come from, and I felt the hilt jerk in my hands like a fish on a line. When it finally lay down, the hare was still alive. I knelt in the wet grass and worked the shears through the snare cord with fingers that would not stop shaking, and the creature bolted into the alders without once looking back.

Mnasi came down at dusk with her staff and her wide, unhurried walk. She took one look at the wolf, then at my bloody sleeves, and laughed the way she laughed at men who bragged about their spears. 'You cut the wrong thing,' she said, but she was smiling. She showed me how to skin the carcass and keep the grey pelt clean, and she had me nail the ram's skull above the gate so the hill spirits would know which house had steady hands.

That winter I wove the pelt into a cloak I never wore. I folded it into the chest with the shears, but the shears came back out every spring to trim the vines. The hare, which I like to think was the same one, grazed the clover by the gate for years after and never once went near the water again.