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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 49259 | 2025-02-28 11:16:40 | 70.49 | 97.1% |
| 48989 | 2024-04-20 16:01:46 | 71.73 | 97.4% |