Faith vs Greed

Brynn grabbed ahold of the empty and tattered wicker basket.
"Do you have enough money?" Her dad asked. She was heading into town in search of potential wares for the shop.
"I believe so!" She chimed confidently, crouching and slipping her mother's dagger into her long leather boot. "I'll recount though, hold on." She stood straight and slipped her warm gray hand into her pocket, grabbing hold of the cold coins that laid there. She then placed each hard-earned coin into her free palm as the basket dangled from her arm as she counted. Her count was the same. "Yeah, I have enough." She gave her father a reassuring smile.
"Alright, kiddo." Her father pulled her close and pecked her forehead. "Be careful." He spun her around and patted her on the back. Brynn chuckled and headed out the shop door.
The half-drow enjoyed her occasional strolls through the Mythrite market. On a colder day like today, she was pleasantly surprised by the traffic. It made for a perfect session of people watching. She would listen as people would lament to each other about their complicated lives, each dissimilar to the last person. Everyone had their dreams, aspirations, and struggles. Her mother had a similar fascination.
The young adult sighed at the passing reminder of her mother's death. She shook her shoulders as if it was a way to brush off the thought and continued pressing further.
Brynn liked to believe that everyone was fundamentally good. That everyone had some sort of validity, and they were either misunderstood or confused. She understood that people would turn to crime due to disadvantages and that some folk entered the world with more privileges than others. She struggled to comprehend greed but still believe the rich were capable of good. Her mother's sudden death, suspected to be from poison, hurt that mindset. She had no way to rationalize the loss of her drow mother.
She closed her eyes tightly as she tuned into the background chatter, pulling her thoughts away from her mom. She brushed through different people from different races, species, and classes.
She listened as an orc and a couple of humans talked about their love lives.
She listened as a gnome and human discuss mining.
And then she eased dropped on elves gossiping about politics.
She inherited her political beliefs and interest from her mother, who was the type to stick up for the little guy. Her heroism was either a rebellion against her heritage, a protest toward hatred, empathy for ones with hardships, or perhaps just her tender kindheartedness. Life was hard for the renegade drow mother. Brynn wondered if that put a target on her back and lead to her death. She winced at the intrusive thought of her mother.
Thankfully, a new distraction emerged as she gained sight of her goal. She picked up her pace, boots crushing rocks and forgotten notes and receipts. A stranger roughly bumped into her, stepping on her foot as she felt a tugging on her coat. "Oof!" She regained her balance and got a glimpse of the passing stranger. All she could identify from them was a smirk. She rubbed her arm, shook her head, and approached a foreign booth. She quickly ran her hands through her hair and straightened her clothes, fearing a potentially disorderly appearance.
She approached the importer booth, a temporary and nomadic stand that was occasionally available. It was a great place for her to acquire new goods for the store. She recognized a few competitors at the scene, along with strangers speaking various languages. She stepped closer to the shopkeep, gifting him a warm smile and a hello. He greeted her back. "Well, hello young lady! What can I interest you in today?"
Brynn's amber eyes curiously examined the items on the shabby wooden stand. "Hmmm..." She admired an old spellbook. "That one looks nice!"
"Ah!" He chuckled. "Good eye, that'll be fifty gold coins!"
A bidder lunged forward, slamming a rattling sack of coins of the table. He looked at Brynn slyly. "Seventy." She smirked and challenged him. "Seventy. And fifty silver."
"Eighty gold."
"Eighty and seventy silver."
The bidder scoffed. "Alright, alright, that's too much for me."
The shopkeep chuckled. "Alright. You named your price miss." He slid the book forward, leaning in with it. His voice was hushed, "We can bring it back to seventy, though. The boy doesn't need to know."
She giggled kindly, relieved by the shopkeeper's generosity. Her hand reached into her pocket once again. She was surprised that she had to dig deeper than she thought-"Wait." She frowned as she and the shopkeep watched her fingers wriggle through the freshly cut hole in her jacket. How did she not notice the weight difference?
Her face flushed as her eyes filled with panic. She gasped. "I-I swear I had the coins-"
The shopkeep gave her a sympathetic look. "I believe you lass, it looks like you got pickpocketed. Be careful next time." Embarrassed, she ran a hand through her hair as she muttered apologies. The rival bidder pushed the sack of coins further, giving Brynn a familiar smirk. Her jaw dropped as he purchased the book, winked, and departed.
She awkwardly walked away from the stand, pushed through the crowd, slipped into an ally, and leaned against a coarse brick wall as she slid to the dirt. The thief stole her money just to mock her with it. It wasn't economically shattering for her and her father, but it certainly wasn't convenient.
"Why..." She mumbled weakly. She pulled her knees close to her and buried her face into them. Her eyes burned and quickly glazed over, but she refused to let a tear fall. She felt a sadness similar to when her mother passed. And then she became grossly aware of her mother's absence. She frowned, confused because the two events weren't even related.
Maybe she was never grieving her mother's death.
Maybe she was grieving her faith in humanity.