Automatically, Drake fishes out his mobile phone to google making nets out of coconut leaves. It's only once the svelte wooden casing is in his hand that he remembers it's nothing but a hunk of junk out here, and his fingers tighten around it defensively, frustratedly. He doesn't put it away though. It's comforting, solid, a remnant of the world they haven't got access to.

"We could weave the leaves I guess," he said. "But it doesn't seem like they'd be very strong." He sends a further glance to his rear to look for vines. "Maybe we could make a temporary pond out of sticks or something; trap them in."