Feather led me down the street to the survey team's headquarters. Or, more accurately, I hobbled after them as they buzzed here and there between their favorite places in town. The library, the raised gardens, the only cafe café that still had decent coffee.

You start in action, and "hobbled" is doing quiet work — it suggests the injury before you name it. Two things a reader will stop on: what is the survey team surveying, and how are the gardens raised? A half-line each would settle both.

The air conditioning was broken. It was the second Monday of September, and Basil was laying on his bedroom floor in the same spot as always, with his cheek tucked into his elbow and one bony hip digging into the worn, gray carpet.

Two sentences and I already have the run-down environment, the unfortunate protagonist, and the season. "Broken," "the same spot as always," "one bony hip," "worn, gray carpet" all pull the same direction — skinny, maybe malnourished, somewhere ill-kept. It sounds like depression without ever saying the word, and the reader gets there on their own.

They arrived with to a sickening crack, watching the burning wall of the town come crashing down. From the crest of a hill, Ebic heard the screams of the civilians as flames engulfed thatched roofs and watchtowers engulfed in flames. watchtowers. His heart saunk; sank; his team was too late to stop the attack.

You switch between past and present tense throughout the story. Choose whichever you prefer and use it consistently, since switching between tenses may confuse and distract readers.