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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 492 | 2025-06-26 21:30:39 | 52.61 | 93% |
| 264 | 2025-06-18 03:30:56 | 48.13 | 93% |
| 2 | 2025-05-31 04:09:29 | 53.83 | 93% |