Native American Arrow Tattoo Novels & Stories

Something big is coming, and for once, the entire supernatural world is in agreement: the Riding Hoods have to be stopped. Kanati—according to Cherokee legend, the first man—looks like he’s about 25. He’s tall, even by werewolf standards, almost matching Dad’s height. He and his translator, Kamama, both have deep tans from living outdoors. Their faces are angular: sharp cheekbones, flat arrowhead-like noses, strong jaws. Kanati wears his long black hair in a scalp lock—shaved on the sides, with a thick lock at the crown that flows down his back. A hawk feather is woven in, and small braids decorate the length. He has a septum piercing, earrings, a silver cuff on his upper left arm, and neckl

She finally fell back onto my chest, sighing. She mumbled softly, again something I didn't understand. "What did you say?" She smiled. "I'm sorry, just something in Masai. If we stay together I'll tell you. Right now, be happy I said it, even if you don't know what it is." She refused to say more. Changing the subject, I asked her about the tattoo she had on that cute little butt. "It's a Masai shield over crossed spears. It's the same design as the one on our national flag. What does yours mean?" she said, tracing the outline on my bicep.

The pale brown almost birthmark looking tattoos along his arms, shoulders, back and chest blaze with divine light and a long bow appears in his massive hand, a full quiver on his back. “Careful of the weres and the humans!” I warn, as he nocks a wicked looking arrow and let’s fly into the back of a knife-wielding vampire with one of the Candlewood wolves pinned against a tree. Twitching as if a current of electricity was running through him, the vamp staggers back, but before the loosed were can tear into him, the arrow bursts into a white-hot flare, burning the bloodsucker from the inside out. My father glances at me, arching a brow.

"Nice meeting you." He wore a short-sleeved shirt, so his arms were exposed. He took his hands out of his pocket, fished into his bag and took out a few pieces of paper. He scanned through them before handing them to me. When he let his hand out to give me the papers, I can't help but look at the arrow tattoo on his forearm. He got it after he beat a guy who claimed his punches 'never misses'. Zane being Zane, obviously wanted to rub salt in the wound and got that tattoo on himself. I wouldn't blame him, though. I would've done the same thing if I were him. "One of the guys told me we're going to have to show our faces to each other," Zane says. "It's stated right there, too."

They are here. Fastening my pace,I try running faster , to only hear them closing in. And then suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my thigh and I fall down. A scream leaving my lips as I look down at an arrow rooted in my thigh. Cursing I look back to see, the hunters circling around me. They were huge men with bulging muscles, ink covering their bodies in designs of weird kind of tattoos and I felt intimidated by them. Their arrows were aimed at me , as threat was visible in their eyes.

The first light of dawn bled through the shattered window pane, casting cold, fractured shadows across the mahogany desk. Beside the pool of gray light, the arrow sat like a corpse on display. I stood over it, the heavy silk of my nightgown offering little protection against the morning chill as Ethan ran a calloused thumb along the shaft. "The fletching is made from the feathers of a northern tundra hawk," Ethan muttered, his jaw tightening as he looked up at me. "This wasn't shot by a random rogue, Aria. This arrow belongs to the personal armory of the Northern Border Guard."

Thane watched, his heart heavy with grief, as the boat grew smaller and smaller. Finally, the shaman nodded to Thane. It was time for him to fulfill his duty as the new Alpha. A bow and a burning arrow was handed to him by Chief Candar. Thane took a deep breath, lifted the bow, and fired the burning arrow at the boat. The arrow soared through the air, leaving a trail of sparks behind it. It struck the boat with a soft thud, and the wooden hull erupted into flames. The crowd gasped in unison, and Thane felt a shiver run down his spine.

The remaining bird, its mate, shrieked, the cry sending a wave of mirrored agony through Arah’s chest. Hot tears pricked her eyes. She felt it. They were one. Something snapped within Arah. Pain throbbed where she’d hit the stone bench, but she pushed it aside and rose to her feet. The remaining owl perched on her arm, trembling with rage and mirroring the glow that now burned in her eyes. Arah shifted her focus to the wind tattoo still coiled around the suspended stream of fountain water. She willed the tattoo to squeeze until the stream burst like a popped balloon. Droplets rained down, soaking the ground as the wind tattoo flew back toward her, circling her body in defensive arcs.

She loved to watch the strength there, the corded muscles and the thick forearms as he performed any kind of task. Tapping her thigh twice, he motioned for her to unwrap her legs and then helped her down. Not saying anything, she closed the distance between them and made short work of his cut as well as the shirt he wore underneath it. He stood in just a pair of jeans and his motorcycle boots. Without a shirt on, she could see all of his tattoos and for the first time, she took the opportunity to look at them. Some were MC related, others were obviously related to his culture. As she ran her lips around the circumference of his frame, she noticed one that gave her pause. On his left shoulder

"Where are they, and how many? It'd be easier to explain if I knew the exact tattoos as well; each of them has a meaning, son." I close my eyes and tell him everything I saw on her ribs. I don't stop at describing the tattoos; I take my time and add details about the scars all over her body. For some reason, it's important to me that my dad knows every detail. My body tenses as he begins to speak. I hope for the best and expect the worst. "As far as I know, the wolf's head is the symbol of her first kill, and the number between the eyes is her age on the day this happened. I already knew the girl started young. We spent some time together down here, and I learned some details about her life.