The Magic 8 Ball Meme

Thank you very much to two lovely ladies, Jaybird and Kathleen Doyle,
for passing on this meme.

Here's the rules:

1. Post the button and link to http://blog.jayceedelorenzo.com (following would be nice, but not required).
2. Share an excerpt from your current WIP, perhaps something you're struggling with, are stuck on, or just can't "get right."
3. Ask a question about your excerpt. It can be something easy such as "What do you think?" or something more in-depth, such as "Can you suggest a better way to word such-and-such," or "How can I make the emotions in this scene more realistic?"
4. Tag 8 people. (I'm not tagging anyone in particular since I see this meme is going around. Please take it if you'd like some help with a story or query, and let me know so I can pop over to see your post.)

This is the beginning of a steampunk short story I'm writing for a YA anthology. I rarely write for anyone other than adults. I have two questions for you:
1) Does it sound too adult? I'm trying to give it a YA feel. I don't know how well I am succeeding with it.
2) This is the beginning I have now. Yet I wonder if I should start in the middle of a fight. I'm biased a bit because I love action, and when I don't have an explosive beginning, I think maybe I'm not hooking the reader. Would this beginning make you want to read more? Or would you rather start it with a fight with a mechanical scorpion?

Here's my excerpt:

Walking on sand was the worst. Mercy's ankle had no movement, and no matter how heavy her pants, the grains got into the gears. Every now and then, her knee joint uttered a dry huff similar to the ones coming from the animal behind her.

“I see it ahead.” Edwina called from atop her mount. The giant jack hopped forward with more enthusiasm, and Mercy leapt to one side to avoid it.

Mercy tapped the stud on her right nostril and breathed in the heat. Mixed in with the faint scent of hot sand was the rich fragrance of life. Water, vegetation, people. No mirage this time. Turning off her sense of smell – it wasn't smart to waste energy out there – she ran as fast as her leg would allow her.

The jack bounded ahead of her over then down the dune with Mercy close behind and skidded to a stop before plowing into the massive mound. Edwina fell off one side, only keeping to her feet because she still had a hold of the reins.

Running past them through the skinny trees and the front of the mound, Mercy went down to her knees beside the water and scooped up a handful. Fresh and cool, it eased the dryness in her throat, and she felt she could speak now and not sound like a grandmother tortoise. Good thing, too, because when she looked up, the welcoming committee had joined them.

With their long spears and forks, welcoming was too friendly of a word for them. It was more of a we-might-kill-you-if-you-make-another-move committee. Mercy's hands didn't listen and went immediately to the guns at her hips.