Without overthinking anything I'm seeing, I pull back and trace one finger along the ring shaped full moon before following the arc all the way down to the waxing crescent. The woman's breath shallows at the contact.
"It's beautiful."
Her entire body goes rigid as I make sure to support her stomach with my other arm and my fingertip continues its tracing explorations, paying extra feather-like attention to the part of the snowflake aimed down her spine.
"When did you get this?"
"Years ago, after I... after I became the leader of the pack."
She manages to speak an answer in a strained voice while I wipe a thumb across the solid black orb of the new moon. All of this had to be quite uncomfortable in this thin and sensitive area.
Even if our regeneration would make things better quickly… actually, would our skin not just reject one of these? The ink would bleed and push out like most contaminants do. Perhaps there is a special method that makes it 'take' for our biology.
