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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5152 | 2024-02-28 14:58:57 | 68.59 | 96.8% |
| 4873 | 2023-12-10 15:25:27 | 66.94 | 96.8% |