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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3209 | 2025-03-17 12:25:20 | 63.48 | 96.1% |
| 2955 | 2024-06-08 16:13:58 | 75.11 | 96.5% |