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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1639 | 2024-02-17 15:48:32 | 66.33 | 94.3% |
| 1408 | 2023-12-17 19:30:19 | 69.13 | 95.2% |
| 1169 | 2023-11-03 17:52:26 | 69.65 | 96.3% |