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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 632 | 2025-01-10 13:19:44 | 57.54 | 95.8% |
| 520 | 2024-08-21 10:16:17 | 58.81 | 97% |
| 491 | 2024-07-14 15:44:39 | 56.71 | 96.9% |