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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1117 | 2025-05-28 14:29:38 | 68.24 | 95% |
| 702 | 2025-03-07 16:13:44 | 58.94 | 93% |
| 390 | 2025-02-19 17:35:13 | 59.52 | 92% |