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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 14367 | 2025-07-05 17:56:19 | 105.29 | 96% |
| 13570 | 2025-05-25 19:56:37 | 112.68 | 97.7% |
| 11393 | 2024-06-30 16:43:35 | 110.68 | 97% |
| 11169 | 2024-05-07 16:13:02 | 121.25 | 97.1% |