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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 611 | 2024-09-19 01:16:51 | 58.32 | 95.6% |
| 593 | 2024-09-17 14:21:00 | 75.26 | 96.6% |
| 406 | 2024-09-06 15:14:52 | 72.47 | 96.7% |