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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 28272 | 2025-06-05 16:45:28 | 165.07 | 97.5% |
| 25376 | 2024-08-17 21:47:42 | 153.13 | 97.4% |