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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 21629 | 2025-03-08 19:53:16 | 113.69 | 98.9% |
| 18332 | 2023-11-22 21:30:58 | 108.60 | 99.2% |