Red Tailed Hawk Tattoo Novels & Stories

And Hawk knew Rushka didn't weep. Hawk stood in silence while the man ran a callused hand through his black hair. It was liberally streaked with gray and white, his craggy face handsome, yet equally marked by time. Absentmindedly, the man began to plait his long hair, staring into the dying embers as full morning broke across the valley. Brahir Mount towered above this vale, its outline smoky blue and purple against the pale sky. Hawk dropped to a seat atop one of the large stones near the circle-fire and sat in silence, a trait that had endeared him to this tribe of Gypsies.

My heart’s pounding as I pull my top down from my shoulder and look at Shane’s mark that is now tattooed over my shoulder; it consists of a shield which covers my shoulder. It has a sword upon it with an intricate hilt. In front of the shield is a wolf standing protectively. Shane… the shield of defence… He was ready to protect everyone, and he died a true warrior… I brush my fingers down my tattoo. Right beneath it, I had his name tattooed too. I look at Jax’s mark on my neck. It’s darker than Shane’s was. It consists of a thicket of trees, black with hues of dark green, and through the trees, you can see the dark silhouette of a wolf with yellow eyes peering out from between the trees.

rubbing my head I see a mark on my arm. Laying my arm straight and focusing on it. The mark, is not a mark its a tattoo! The tattoo of a wolf head with red eyes and extra-long knife sharp k-9's. There is a design on the wolfs forehead and behind the head that reminds me of some kind of tribal design intricately woven in what looks like hair.

I whisper more towards myself. The tattoo is of no ordinary design. The intricate details almost seem inhumanly made. Swirls of dusty-grey storm clouds surround a midnight-blue sword. They begin at the handles and spiral throughout the golden blade. Behind the sword lays black and blue tip wings. Each feather tip is like a tempestuous addiction. The closer I come, I want to touch it. Visions of the wings wrapping around me, never allowing me to escape, consume my thoughts. I look up at Raquel and shiver, not understanding how a tattoo could be so powerful.

Aarya “Wow! It’s exquisite!” I marveled at the stunning neck tattoo that adorned my best friend Lea’s skin. My fingers traced the lines of the intricate design as I asked her, “I want one too, but I’m such a wimp thinking about the pain. Did it hurt?” Nestled at the base of her neck, where the curve of her neck met her shoulder, was a beautifully detailed wolf outline tattoo. Below the tattoo were Steven's initials, symbolizing their connection. It looks amazing.

He responds as he looks at me. I glance towards the end of the bar and nod towards the woman sitting there. Trevor looked at me and nodded then cleared his throat. The young woman at the end didn't move a single muscle. Her long black wavy hair hung over one side of her shoulder covering her face but revealing a small piece of tattoo on her shoulder blade. I glance in the giant mirror on the wall behind the counter. The tops of two very detailed wings covered her shoulders and disappeared under the back of her dress. There was a small tattoo on the back of her neck that I recognized well. It's a symbol we all get when we come of age as wolves. It's like a badge of honor.

"Can you describe this woman?" "Um- I don't think so, I didn't really study her, but she had a tattoo on her wrist, I uh- It was like a- bird with an arrow." "The Hawks." Davy's voice resounded from behind me. The police man looked towards his direction. "I'm detective Davy Jones." Davy said as he earned a weird look from the police officer. Davy ignored it... "The Hawks are a remote group. Their logo was a bird with an arrow."

On cue, men with weapons, with the same tattoos emerged from the shadows. My eyes widened when I realized what their tattoos means. It's an arrow and a sword depicted together with a gothic letter R in the middle. These men are rebels! "The master will love this. Let's bring them to our hideout. Take them to the wagon," one of the rebels ordered. "NO!" I shrieked and elbowed the man who was holding me on my left arm. He lost his grip on me as he fell to his knees. He was clutching his stomach while grunting in pain. I shifted my haze to Ayla and I saw how she tried to free herself from the men. She succeeded which made the rebels frantic and furious.

The only word that came to mind was drool worthy. My eyes were drawn to the tattoos that littered his body. The ones that lined his chest and ribs caught my attention and I badly wanted to know what they were. My fingers twitched at my sides wanting to go over there and run them across the tattoos. He threw his shirt off to the side and turned fully towards me. I couldn't stop myself from asking. "What are your tattoos of?" "Oh these." He glanced down at the ones on his chest. "This one," He pointed to the symbol on his left peck. "is the Marine's symbol. And this says 'Move mountains or die trying'." He touched the quote that was on his ribs.

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”