The Jarl was silent as Thistle spoke, barely hiding his scowl. Of course she would want to heal him. It was her nature — a nature that the two did not share with one another. I will not waste resources cached for our pack on a half drowned, trespassing stranger. Whether Thistle agreed or disagreed with him Ragnar did not care. His word was final on it. She would not waste their stores on a stranger of whom there was no guarantee he would live anyway, or even if he did live no guarantee that he would stay. That Ragnar would let him stay. It was pointless, in Ragnar's eyes. A child, Ragnar would have not been able to say 'no' too but a child the dark mass was not. He was likely older than Ragnar. His death was probably inevitable, anyway. You do not have to heal him. Not even meagerly. Our pack comes first, our subordinates, our family comes first. You can let him die. Or let the sea claim him. He glimpsed back towards the dark mass on their sands and let out a snort. But you'll do what you want anyway, He knew her, and he knew that she would do what she thought was right even if it meant defying her. And he would let her because he loved her. It would piss him off but he would get over it and they both knew that. If you must heal him you will use the minimal amount of your medicines that you can. I do not care if it is not enough. Perhaps it shouldn't have washed up on our shores. His life means nothing to me. When he is well enough he will willingly leave our lands or I will kill him myself. Those were Ragnar's conditions. They were harsh but he was a harsh man and with Winter fast approaching and the birth of children quickly on their way he had no tolerance for sharing — something that he did not do well to begin with.
It was survival of the fittest and he planned on making sure that he and Stavanger Bay survived.