<It's fine.> He'll manage. Despite his apparent delicacy Alloran weighs over six hundred pounds - a good portion of that is tail - so weight isn't really the issue that general discomfort is. Despite everything, he's really pleased to be able to have that choice and decide, no, I'm not going to carry an alien bouncing around that close to my genitals unless it's a matter of life or death and also to not have anyone know.

It's going to take some trial and error to pick a good pace. His first inclination is probably too fast. Alloran's enormous tail curves up well over his head and strikes a decent-sized branch they've just passed under so that it rustles to the ground. Ideally, that's a tripping hazard, but it might be noisy.

<I can have a human's or a Hork-Bajir's head or arm off at a stroke,> he says, rather casually for such an admission. During his whole time on the Rig, Alloran downplayed the speed and power of his tail, even holding it submissively low much of the time. <But I don't know what those creatures are made of. If I can't take one's head to pieces as a bievelerd, I can't imagine my tailblade would do much better.>