Pencil sketch of a woman's face framed by curling hair, peach roses, antlers, arrows and chains, drawn as a neo-traditional tattoo design with no body part visible.

Woman with roses and arrows pencil design

Neo-trad · Mixed · Flash

A pencil drawing of a woman's face in three-quarter view, framed by voluminous curled hair, with dark antler-like horns and strings of beaded chain above. Peach-coloured roses with leaves sit beside her face and at the neck, and arrows cross the lower left of the composition. Shading is soft and grey on the face and hair, with dark outlines on the horns and arrows, and the sketch sits on a pale paper background.

Neo-trad Woman Rose Arrow Antler Curl Chain Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The frost had not lifted from the top field by the time Maud Ackroyd went up for the ewes, and the rooks were already working the stubble like men counting coins. She carried a bucket of mangold in one hand and the lantern in the other, though the sky had gone the colour of skimmed milk and there was no need of a light.

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Near the gate she found the hart. It lay in the hedge bottom where the beck had frozen, its antlers still crowned and ragged, and someone had hung a string of glass beads from one tine, the kind her mother used to sell at the Thursday market. Old Tom Ferrier had been talking about the shoot since Michaelmas, a party of gentlemen from Harrogate with a dog that wouldn't come back, and a woman in a green cloak who had walked out of the wood last week, asked for water, and never gone home.

She dragged the antlers back on the sledge, ropes creaking over the stones, and hung them above the kitchen door where the bacon usually went. Her mother's roses had died on the back wall, but the hips still glowed in the hedge like peach sweets, so Maud cut a handful and tucked them behind the beads. The arrows she found in the barn loft, ash shafts bound in faded feathers, and she laid them across the table without deciding what to do with them.

By dusk the ewes were folded and the stove was roaring. Maud heard the bell at the top gate, two notes and then nothing, and when she went out with the lamp there were only hoofprints going up the white hill, deep and unhurried, toward the wood. She left the gate open behind her and went in to set the kettle on, because the frost would be back by morning and the beads, she had decided, could keep the kitchen company.