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 |
---|---|---|---|
2306 | 2025-03-05 01:36:54 | 77.54 | 95.9% |
2077 | 2025-02-27 00:15:17 | 65.18 | 93.1% |