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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4152 | 2024-11-19 06:47:33 | 77.11 | 97.5% |
| 3203 | 2023-11-11 19:43:03 | 76.25 | 97.5% |
| 3132 | 2023-11-06 03:54:42 | 76.72 | 96.7% |