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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6035 | 2025-07-12 01:05:39 | 98.80 | 98% |
| 5880 | 2025-06-25 16:02:49 | 103.34 | 99% |
| 5485 | 2025-05-06 20:43:36 | 98.35 | 98.1% |