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 |
---|---|---|---|
170 | 2024-01-06 01:54:23 | 98.94 | 97.3% |