Free Northern Sons by Angelica Siren Page A

shaking moisture from there as well.
    "Oi, Wil," Ronan called out towards the back of the shop, "Bring us a towel, would ye?"
    I heard a mumbled response from someone who must have been Wil , though I couldn't make out the words. Thirty seconds later, he came to us with two large, dry towels in his hands and tossed one to each of us. As I dried my hair and did my best to make myself look presentable, I looked Wil over. I'd never met him before, but he had come highly recommended by Ronan, Garret and a few other Druids. He was an unassuming looking guy. He was short - about the same height as me - with balding blonde hair and a weak jaw. If I'd seen him on the street, I would assume he was a banker or an insurance salesman or something. That is, if I couldn't see his arms. From wrist to shoulder, each of his arms was a colorful tapestry. His tattoos told a hundred stories and more. Here and there I saw animals I recognized. In other places there were famous characters, script in half a dozen languages and geometric designs as well. Rather than being busy, the result was a work of art that you could stare at for hours and not grasp the full meaning of.
    "So, what can I do for you lovebirds," he asked us when we seemed to be mostly dry once again.
    Ronan turned at me and grinned, inviting me to tell Wil just what I was looking for. I blushed and didn't say anything, knowing that Ronan would urge me forward the way he always did.
    "She's after her first tattoo and we want to make sure it's special," he said, taking my hand and rubbing my fingers softly. I smiled at Wil, not quite believing what I was about to do.
    I don't have a problem with tattoos or anything. I just never thought I could find one that would look right on me. I'd been feeding Ronan the same line ever since he suggested the notion, days after we'd met. Eventually he wore me down, or maybe he convinced me. Either way, he explained that people put too much stock in making their first tattoo important and meaningful. Tattoos can be great momentous works of art or they can be small clever designs. They have whatever meaning you bring into them, great or small. The important thing was allowing yourself to do it so you can learn how little of a big deal it really is.
    Ronan had been encouraging me to get a cartoon character or a butterfly or something. His idea was that having a simple and normal tattoo would be the best way to convince he to get something more important down the line. I relented on getting a tattoo, but I decided to make it special the first time around. In the end I'd settled on a stylized drawing a rowan tree with eight small stars surrounding it. The name of the tree reminded me of Ronan and eight was always my lucky number - plus Ronan and I had met on the 8th of the month. It seemed just right without being too overtly pretentious, I thought.
    I pulled the drawing I'd done out of my purse and showed it to Wil. He took a long time considering it, which seemed to be a good thing to me. He kept nodded and making agreeable sounds as he studied the drawing.
    He looked up at me finally and said, "I like it, I like it. Did ye draw this yourself?"
    I nodded to him. "Yep, I used to do a lot of illustrating, but it's more of a hobby than anything."
    "Well ye've got a real talent for it. Where would ye like it?" he asked.
    Ronan and I had discussed location at length. In the end I'd decided to get it done on the calf of my right leg. The drawing was large enough to require ample space, but I didn't want to use my back or anything like that on my first tattoo. The leg seemed like a perfect choice.
    While I got in the comfortable chair Wil had set up for the tattooing, Ronan pestered him with questions about the new shop. I'd only gathered part of the story, but it sounded like Wil used to run a much larger shop that was in a nicer part of town, but for some reason he'd sold it and moved here. Wil seemed evasive on the point, saying merely that he wanted to