CHERMEN, Russia, Sept 7 (AFP) - Along with the rest of the world Issa Evloyev watched with horror as an armed band took a school full of children hostage near his hometown in southern Russia. But his horror was two-fold.
Evloyev is an ethnic Ingush, a Muslim, living in mostly Christian North Ossetia. In 1992 armed battles between the two peoples left dozens dead on both sides and Evloyev knew that if some of the hostage takers turned out to be Ingush, he and his family would face the threat of retribution.
"Children is the most vulnerable spot that people have," he said sitting in his living room in Chermen, a village inhabited by both Ingush and Ossetians on the border between the two Caucasus republics.
"Right now people are filled with grief. And when you grieve, you lose your reason," he said.
"Of course we are wary... An uncontrolled mob is a dangerous thing," he said.
The straight-talking 62-year-old with gold teeth has good reason to worry.
Authorities have said that several Ingush were among the armed group of hostage takers and Evloyev lives in a village where the few Ingush who stayed in North Ossetia after the fighting in 1992 remain.
If a mob came looking for some Ingush, they'd likely come here.
The threat of such a thing happening is real enough that government officials -- from President Vladimir Putin to local leaders -- have warned people not to use the bloody hostage taking as an excuse for enflaming inter-ethnic strife.
Signs that this could happen have been on display here ever since the hostage siege began last Wednesday.
"They have started a war that will last 50 years," a man says in front of the culture center on Thursday night. "We don't forgive these things, we have blood feuds... They live right next door."
"God forbid I see an Ingush or a Chechen," a man mutters in front of the children's hospital in Vladikavkaz on Saturday, the day after the siege. "I swear I'll kill him."
"It's high time we stop bowing to the Ingush and the Chechens," a woman says at a memorial service of Ruslan and Busya Fraev in Beslan.
"I just hope we don't have a war with the Ingush now," a man says as the Fraevs' coffins are lowered into the ground at the Beslan cemetery. "The situation is so tense right now, all you need is a spark. You need a scapegoat and Ingushetia is closest."
"I know that a war with them won't lead to anything good," says a man at the cemetery on Monday, when thousands of people buried more than a 100 victims of the siege. "But if I see an Ingush or a Chechen right now, I swear I'll kill them with my own bare hands."
Evloyev understands such sentiment -- "Can you blame them? They've lost their children. Put yourself in their place."
But he warns that mass retribution will only lead to further carnage.
"What do we have to do with it? We live here peacefully," he said. "If the lava starts, you won't be able to stop it. If it flares, it will be much worse than in '92, it will be much more bloody."
"Back then, people hardly knew how to use arms. Today they have had practice for 10 years. I don't have any arms in my house, but if we're attacked, I'll get them quickly enough."
"In order for the conflict not to flare, you need to post armed forces near here. And if you have Ossetians in the armed forces, you need to have Russians, too."
Evloyev spoke on Monday, the first day of massive burials from the siege, when more than a 100 victims were laid into the ground.
That morning, two jeeps with elite OMON troops stood at one of the entrances to Chermen, on the road leading up to Evloyev's house.
"People are grieving right now," said Vitaly, the commander of the eight-man crew. "We will be here throughout the mourning period."
He paused.
"And maybe after that."