"Me friend!" you scream down at the rabid dryad, whom you appear to be kicking for a reason that you can no longer remember, but you'll be damned if you're going to stop now and risk looking foolish. "Me cool! Me cool, bro -- some of me best friends am Ancient Forest Avatars!"
"Jesus Fucking Christ, Oakron, are all tree spirits such total bogarts?"
"Ahhhmhh guhhhrreaaaakkk, yeeewwww rrrrraaaiiiiyyyyy cyssssst," it replies, in a voice like the creaking of branches in the wind.
Great. It doesn't speak English.
"You're in America, goddammit! Learn the language!"
Fucking foreign tree gods, sneaking into our country, sucking up all our soil nutrients. Bet he edged out a decent, hard-working American Pine Marten for this gig, too. Hey, you know what? Screw this guy!