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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 160 | 2025-03-30 11:06:08 | 56.41 | 96% |
| 148 | 2025-03-29 14:00:49 | 39.37 | 96% |
| 137 | 2025-03-28 15:53:34 | 55.50 | 98% |