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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 878 | 2025-10-22 17:17:23 | 46.27 | 94% |
| 874 | 2025-10-22 17:11:21 | 46.51 | 94% |
| 775 | 2025-09-28 18:59:04 | 45.70 | 94% |