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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3338 | 2024-01-11 01:25:36 | 81.63 | 96.8% |
| 1876 | 2023-10-05 09:13:07 | 83.60 | 97.7% |