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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3100 | 2025-01-20 22:33:52 | 60.47 | 95.9% |
| 3043 | 2024-09-23 22:26:38 | 71.59 | 97.5% |