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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4984 | 2025-03-25 16:47:11 | 72.94 | 94.3% |
| 4897 | 2025-03-23 01:47:16 | 75.27 | 96.4% |
| 554 | 2023-11-04 01:58:24 | 61.00 | 95.8% |