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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 917 | 2024-11-12 00:50:52 | 54.52 | 95.8% |
| 492 | 2024-09-22 21:13:12 | 52.61 | 95.5% |
| 421 | 2024-09-16 15:49:52 | 49.70 | 95.5% |