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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 318 | 2024-09-25 08:44:06 | 62.96 | 96.5% |
| 192 | 2024-09-25 02:31:33 | 67.53 | 97.5% |