The Place
The Fangsteppe is a bone-totem savanna, and the bone is the whole of the place, because a steppe that is bone is a steppe that has been counted, and the counting is the law. The steppe stretches thirty kilometers from the fang-marks to the dry river, and the thirty kilometers is the measure the gnolls trust, because a steppe that has been scored is a steppe that has been chased, and the chasing is the keeping. The ground of the steppe is scored with fang-marks a thousand generations deep, a rust-brown that is more tooth than color, and the rust is the color of the chase, which is to say it is a color you can see in the grass and not in the stone. The totems of the steppe are bone, a pale white that is more memory than meat, and the white is the color of the howl, and the howl is the calendar, and the calendar is the laugh. The grass of the steppe is a tawny gold in the season of the dry, and the gold is the color of the chase, and the chase is the kept. The sky over the steppe is a hard blue, the color of the ridge when the storm is far, and the light on the bone is sharp and mean, the kind of light that shows every mark in the ground and every totem in the grass. It smells of dry grass and old bone, a smell that is the steppe and is also the howl, and the one sound under the grass is the howl, a long low cry from the center of the steppe that is the chase being read as a word, and the word is the laugh, and the laugh is the end. There is no landmark the way a steppe has a landmark, but there is one: the First Totem, a single tall bone at the center of the steppe, the oldest totem and the first howl, and the totem is the door, and the door is the howl. What makes the Fangsteppe itself is the chase: the steppe keeps its totems the way the totems keep the howl, and the keeping is the chase, and the chase is the word, and the word is the end.
How They Live
The Gnolls build their totems on the steppe, structures of carved bone and packed earth, their chambers low and guarded by the howl-wall, and a totem is raised one bone at a time, because a bone is the season and a bone is the calendar. The totems are low and round, a pale bone over a darker earth, and the pale is the roof and the darker is the law, and the law is the chase. Light comes from the steppe — the amber light of the grass, which glows in the half-light of the season, and the amber is the daylight, and the daylight is the kept. Food is the chase: the savanna-chase, the small game, the large game, and the bone that keeps the howl honest, and the game is the staple, because the game is the chase, and the chase is the kept. Water is drawn from the steppe's springs, which the howl-callers tend like a garden, and the tending is the craft and the craft is the rank, and the springs are the cold threads at the dry river, and the threads are the kept. Heat is the hide in the season of the cold, and the season is the year, and the gnolls have stopped asking the steppe for more. The howl carries for miles, and the miles are the law, because a howl that carries is a howl that has been kept, and the keeping is the word. The defense is the howl itself — a visitor who steps onto the steppe is already in the laugh's path, and the laugh is the alarm and the welcome and the sentence, because the steppe has a totem, and the totem has a howl, and the howl has an end. The day is measured by the howl, which is also the calendar, because the steppe is the only clock the bone needs, and the clock does not lie about the chase. Every gnoll that is named must stand at the First Totem through one full howl before the steppe will call it one of its own, and the standing is the naming, and the naming is the only thing the bone ever gives back.
People
Home of the Gnolls, whose packs are counted by totem. Twenty-one totems at the last count, and the count is kept by the howl-callers, which is to say the count is as reliable as the howl, which is to say it is reliable until the chase breaks. The howl-callers lead, and rank is decided by the carrying, because a caller whose howl carries a mile the steppe has forgotten is the caller the totem trusts. Nothing that cannot carry its howl is welcome, and the not-carrying is not an insult, because the steppe has a word, and the word has a chase, and the chase has an end. A traveler who once crossed the steppe at the hour of the dry sun called it a country that keeps its chases the way other countries keep their fields, and the calling was the truest thing he said and the thing the steppe paid the least attention to.
In Stories
The place where the bone is the only honest promise, and the promise is the howl, and the howl is the laugh, and the laugh is the end. The Forgotten have crossed the steppe once, on the way to the dry river, and the crossing was in the season of the dry, and the dry was the decision. Uaellaen heard the howl once, from the foot of the First Totem, and the hearing was the chase, and the chase was the only thing that lasted.