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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10556 | 2025-04-15 19:16:14 | 88.42 | 96.8% |
| 8700 | 2023-12-25 14:01:41 | 96.08 | 96.6% |