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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7940 | 2023-12-17 21:06:12 | 129.67 | 99.1% |
| 7686 | 2023-12-13 18:12:29 | 130.45 | 99.4% |