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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1418 | 2025-06-25 14:18:39 | 44.54 | 96% |
| 1291 | 2025-06-18 15:34:18 | 45.92 | 98% |
| 1060 | 2025-04-14 07:17:50 | 44.34 | 96% |