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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12208 | 2024-06-02 01:57:58 | 76.05 | 97.1% |
| 11841 | 2024-04-18 14:59:10 | 89.43 | 96.5% |
| 11595 | 2024-03-27 13:59:40 | 101.75 | 98.3% |