It'd been several minutes since Atchmon left to collect his food for the week, and Rarity was already starting to feel worried that something had happened to him. There wasn't much she could do to help even if she wanted to. She was no survivor, had no experience being in the wilderness, and certainly couldn't harm a creature to the extent Atchmon could. Sure, Rarity could hold her own against a half-dozen Changelings, and wasn't afraid to go hoof to claw against a Dragon when her poor Spikey-wikey was in trouble. But to actually do what Atchmon does to ensure your own survival... It was the natural order of things.