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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8551 | 2024-03-11 10:01:29 | 81.79 | 96.3% |
| 8512 | 2024-01-11 16:23:14 | 86.21 | 96.9% |