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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2473 | 2025-11-03 12:51:38 | 52.10 | 96% |
| 2219 | 2025-08-29 09:09:02 | 59.18 | 96% |
| 1160 | 2025-02-24 13:06:57 | 49.67 | 96.8% |
| 694 | 2024-10-29 08:26:44 | 41.32 | 94.3% |