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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 46133 | 2024-02-04 03:42:38 | 118.19 | 98.3% |
| 45738 | 2023-12-31 08:45:58 | 118.95 | 97.4% |