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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1043 | 2025-06-16 03:06:43 | 58.77 | 93% |
| 770 | 2025-05-29 08:14:10 | 52.90 | 94% |
| 563 | 2025-05-23 12:08:13 | 55.71 | 94% |