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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1204 | 2025-05-17 02:24:21 | 76.88 | 95.8% |
| 1181 | 2025-05-04 18:41:48 | 66.61 | 95.3% |
| 547 | 2025-04-16 21:12:56 | 73.12 | 97% |