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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10055 | 2024-12-06 07:01:41 | 95.21 | 97.8% |
| 10037 | 2024-12-05 03:53:22 | 98.56 | 98.1% |