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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12018 | 2024-01-20 21:56:01 | 55.01 | 95.4% |
| 11402 | 2024-01-07 20:34:03 | 55.80 | 95.6% |