The cool morning, pale as pearl, threw tendrils of mist over the blue-gray ice. Ancient trees ringed the frozen water; their dark limbs seemed to hold up the sky. Frost silvered the earth, and all around was the whisper of water, breaking loose winter's bonds. A thrush called from within the wood. There was no sign of the horses.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6705 | 2024-03-20 06:36:21 | 74.17 | 96.8% |
| 6081 | 2024-03-14 05:26:47 | 76.83 | 98.3% |
| 4091 | 2024-01-18 20:33:57 | 71.45 | 97.7% |