And she does take it, carefully watching the way the sunlight reflects off it to make sure when it's facing the magpie she actually has some idea of how it might come at her. Once that's taken care of, her attention goes back to Chiyo, who looks like she's making good progress on sneaking up on this bird.

As Chiyo gets closer, Lina starts holding the water bottle in the sunlight, tilting it back and forth to make the reflection move just a little. The magpie's attention seems to shift with a few quick head turns and a tilt of curiosity, but she doesn't know enough about birds to know if that's just how they are? The point is that it's stationary for the moment and doesn't seem to notice Chiyo, nor does it want, necessarily, to take off and dive-bomb Lina's shiny thing. For the moment.

Lina's tanzaku is still in its beak, and the situation is almost making her heart race. What she wrote isn't devastatingly private or anything, but wishing for help from the gods to have enough money to keep surviving is the kind of thing that she doesn't want getting out. And she doesn't know Chiyo well enough to tell if she'll read it or not if she gets there first.