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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6764 | 2024-06-14 01:22:43 | 105.73 | 97.5% |
| 6490 | 2024-05-29 14:54:31 | 112.78 | 97.6% |