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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3879 | 2024-03-11 03:05:07 | 81.86 | 99.1% |
| 3156 | 2024-03-03 02:34:36 | 76.09 | 98.6% |
| 3137 | 2024-03-02 06:03:25 | 75.52 | 98.6% |