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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6215 | 2025-05-28 18:07:56 | 94.30 | 96% |
| 2384 | 2024-12-10 15:04:58 | 81.36 | 95.9% |
| 1254 | 2024-10-09 12:13:42 | 77.72 | 96.8% |