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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 18455 | 2024-04-29 10:17:34 | 100.42 | 98.6% |
| 18306 | 2024-04-20 04:35:37 | 92.80 | 97.8% |
| 16001 | 2023-10-15 11:19:42 | 78.70 | 97.1% |