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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1450 | 2024-01-09 11:03:59 | 67.67 | 96.4% |
| 1136 | 2023-12-06 09:10:21 | 69.33 | 97.8% |