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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1246 | 2023-11-05 04:32:06 | 83.20 | 96.4% |
| 1238 | 2023-11-05 01:58:20 | 80.42 | 95.7% |