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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4332 | 2024-10-03 10:08:01 | 54.40 | 94.6% |
| 3569 | 2024-06-03 03:58:13 | 63.00 | 96.7% |