In the middle of October, Drok and his little band start off for their winter quarters very close to what is now Brighton. They'd been travelling for about six days, when Drok saw a trail branching off the one they were on at the moment, and decided to explore it for a little way. He walked down the dusty path, his glance darting to left and right.
It was a still day, so he'd have heard rustling in the long grass that bordered the way. The path bore round gently to the left... and he saw it. What we would call a Megantereon these days, but of course Drok had no name for it. Instantly, he felt himself going into that strange state that made him feel light, his stomach turned over, the palms of his hands began to sweat and he knew he had to run -- very fast.
It was that or standing his ground and fighting the animal, and that was out of the question. The beast was about the size of a small lioness, with long, sharp fangs and squat legs. Most fortunately, Drok had noticed a fairly sturdy tree some way back from where he'd come from, and he turned and sprinted for all he was worth to take advantage of its cover.
He knew this particular animal couldn't climb trees; it's claws were too long and delicate, so provided Drok could make it to the tree, he was safe. Naturally enough, Drok didn't really have any idea why he felt the way he did when he was confronted by something that frightened him. All he did know was that from setting eyes on the animal until he was in full flight for the tree, took less time than sucking in a lungful of air.
He reached the tree just as the animal was grabbing at his foot. But at least now he was safe. The brute made a few half-hearted jumps up at the lower branches, but soon gave up and wandered away. Drok sat in the tree, allowing his body and reflexes to settle down before watchfully descending, rejoining his companions and carrying on his way with them.
If there was one thing Fred hated more than anything else, it was having to go to a company party. He had no problem giving talks, sometimes to hundreds of people about aeronautics and aerodynamics, since he was a master on these subjects, but having to stand around and make small talk, terrified him.
He knew perfectly well that he'd have one of those wretched panic attacks, for which his doctor had given him anti-anxiety pills. Why in this day and age we had to suffer these attacks, defeated him. The big problem was that these panic attacks were self-fulfilling now.
Sure enough, Fred had been at this shindig for about twenty minutes, then felt the palms of his hands start to sweat, his stomach begin to churn and an almost irresistible desire to turn tail and run as fast as he could from the house.
So Drok and Fred had panic attacks, but whereas Drok's saved his life, Fred merely found his attack to be a darned nuisance. Both, though, came from the amygdala, the small cluster of almond shaped, pebble-like pieces that are set roughly at the nape of our necks and are one of the most primitive parts of the brain.
Let's have a look at some more mental problems suffered by modern man next time, and compare these to Drok.