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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5331 | 2025-01-22 17:53:44 | 77.76 | 98.1% |
| 4827 | 2025-01-17 21:43:52 | 76.72 | 97.8% |
| 4469 | 2025-01-15 16:47:37 | 69.76 | 97.6% |