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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7732 | 2025-07-18 23:33:38 | 53.02 | 99% |
| 5321 | 2024-03-27 08:59:43 | 42.34 | 97.1% |
| 5111 | 2024-02-11 03:09:09 | 39.12 | 95.8% |